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WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


> 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notas  tachniquas  at  bibliographiquaa 


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raproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  changa 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checlced  below. 


□ 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommag4e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  peiliculAe 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gAographiquas  en  couleur 


Coloured  init  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  iliustrctSons  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
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along  interior  margin/ 

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distortion  la  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

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appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possibte,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutAes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais.  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  AtA  film6es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplimentairas: 


L'Instltut  a  microf  ilm6  la  malllaur  axemplaira;;. 
qu'il  lui  a  At*  poasibia  da  se  procurer.  Les  diialla 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographlqua,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  Image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  ia  mithoda  normala  dn  filmage 
sont  Indlquto  ci-dessous. 


I — I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagias 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurAes  et/ou  peliiculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
Pages  dicoiortes,  tachetAes  ou  piquAas 

Pages  detached/ 
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Includes  supplementary  matarii 
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Only  edition  available/ 
Seuie  Edition  diaponibla 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

I — I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

r~l  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I — I  Pages  detached/ 


I — I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I — I    Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I — I    Only  edition  available/ 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  Image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieilement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuiiiet  d'errata,  una  peiuro, 
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obtenir  ia  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  \n  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


y 


12X 


16X 


20X 


26X 


30X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

D.  B.  Weldon  Library 
University  of  Western  Ontario 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quaiity 
possibie  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filmA  f ut  reproduit  grAce  k  la 
g^nirositA  de: 

D.  B.  Weldon  Library 
University  of  Western  Ontario 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  M  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  le  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dent  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  film6s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  fi!m6s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  te'Se 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  *-»•  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symbolec  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ►  signifie  "A  SUiVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hund  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  r6duction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  fttre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  filmd  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

c 


1 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD 


A    NOVEL 


BY 


THOMAS   STINSON   JARVIS 


Consider  the  work  of  God :  for  who  can  make 
that  straight,  which  he  hath  made  crooked  ? 

Ecclestastes  vii,  13, 


NEW     YORK 
D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 

1890 


Copyright,  1890, 
By  D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


^ 


\\^h^}\ 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


CHAPTER   I. 

I  do  not  think 

So  fair  an  outward,  and  such  stuff  within, 

Endows  a  man  but  he. 

Cymbeline. 

The  Victoria  Bank,  Toronto,  is  on  the  corner  of  Bay 
and  Front  Streets,  where  it  overlooks  a  part  of  the  harbor 
large  enough  to  gladden  the  eyes  of  the  bank-clerks  who 
are  aquatic  in  their  habits  and  have  time  to  look  out  of 
the  windows.  Young  gentlemen  in  tattered  and  ink- 
stained  coats,  but  irreproachable  in  the  matter  of  trousers 
and  linen,  had  been  known  to  gaze  longingly  and  wearily 
down  toward  that  strip  of  shining  water  when  hard  fate 
in  the  shape  of  bank  duty  apparently  remained  indifferent 
to  the  fact  that  an  interesting  race  was  being  rowed  or 
sailed.  This,  sometimes,  was  rather  a  bad  thing  for  the 
race ;  for  the  Victoria  Bank  had,  immured  within  its  cut 
stone  and  plate  glass,  some  good  specimens  of  muscular 
gentility;  and  in  contests  of  different  kinds,  the  V.  B. 
had  a  way  (discomforting  to  other  banks)  of  producing 
winners.  The  amount  of  muscle  some  of  them  could 
apply  to  a  main-sheet  was  creditable,  while,  as  to  rowing, 
there  were  ^ew  who  did  not  cultivate  a  back  and  thigh 
action  which,  if  not  productive  of  so  much  speed  as 
Hanlan's,  was  certainly,  to  the  uninitiated,  quite  as  pleas- 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


ant  to  look  upon  ;  so  that,  in  sports  generally,  theie  was 
a  decided  call  for  the  Vies.  ;  not  only  among  men  on 
account  of  their  skill,  but  also  in  the  ranks  of  a  gentler 
community  whose  interest  in  a  contest  seemed  to  be  more 
personal  than  sporting.  The  Vies,  had  adopted  as  their 
own  a  particular  color,  of  which  they  would  wear  at  least 
a  small  spot  on  any  "  big  day  " ;  and,  when  they  were  con- 
testing, this  color  would  be  prevalent  m  gatherings  of  those 
interested  personally.  And  who  would  inquire  the  reasons 
for  this  favoritism  ?  "  Reasons  !  explanations  ! — why  are 
men  so  curious  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that  those  most  com- 
petent to  decide  have  decided  ?  What  will  you  ?  Go 
to !  "  Indeed,  the  sex  is  very  divine.  It  is  a  large  part 
of  their  divinity  to  be  obscure. 

Perhaps  these  young  men  danced  with  the  ease  and 
self-satisfaction  of  dervishes.  Perhaps  their  prowess  was 
unconsciously  admired  by  those  who  formerly  required 
defenders.  But  the  most  compelling  reason,  on  this  im- 
portant point,  was  that  "  ours  "  of  the  Victoria  Bank  had 
established  themselves  socially  as  "  quite  the  right  sort  " 
and  **  good  form " — and  thus  desirable  to  the  Toronto 
maiden,  and,  if  not  so  much  so  to  her  more  match-making 
mother,  the  fact  that  they  were  considered  chic  pro- 
vided a  feminine  argument  in  their  favor  which  had,  as 
usual,  the  advantage  of  being,  from  its  vagueness,  difficult 
to  answer ;  so  that  the  more  mercantile  mother  grew  to 
consider  that  a  "  detrimental  "  who  was  chic  was  not,  after 
all,  as  bad  as  a  "det."  without  leaven. 

It  has  been  said  that  bank-clerks  are  all  the  same ;  but, 
while  admitting  that,  in  regard  to  their  faultless  trousers 
and  immaculate  linen,  there  does  exist  a  pleasing  general 
resemblance,  rather  military,  it  must  be  insisted  that  there 
are  different  sorts  of  them ;  that  they  are  complete  in 
their  way,  and  need  not  be  idealized.  The  old  barbaric 
love  for  wonderful  story-telling  is  still  the  harvest-ground 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


5 


of  those  who  live  by  the  propagation  of  ideas,  but  must 
we  always  demand  the  unreal  ? 

There  was  nothing  unreal  about  Jack  Cresswell.  As  he 
stood  poring  over  columns  of  figures  in  a  great  book,  one 
glance  at  him  was  sufficient  to  dispel  all  hope  of  mystery. 
He  was  inclosed  in  the  usual  box  or  stall — quite  large 
enough  for  him  to  stand  up  in,  which  was  all  he  required 
(sitting  ruins  trousers) — and  his  office  coat  was  all  a  bank- 
clerk  could  desire.  The  right  armpit  had  "carried  away," 
and  the  left  arm  was  merely  attached  to  the  body  by  a  few 
ligaments — reminding  one  of  railway  accidents.  The  right 
side  of  the  front  and  the  left  arm  had  been  used  for  years 
as  a  pen-wiper.  A  metallic  clasp  for  a  patent  pencil  was 
clinched  through  the  left  breast.  The  holes  for  the  pock- 
ets might  be  traced  with  care  even  at  this  epoch,  but 
they  had  become  so  merged  in  surrounding  tears  as  to 
almost  lose  identity  with  the  original  design. 

The  bank  doors  had  been  closed  for  some  time,  after 
three  o'clock,  on  this  particular  day  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  blank,  and  Jack 
Cresswell  had  been  puzzling  his  brains  over  figures  with 
but  poor  success.  Whether  his  head  was  dull,  or  whether 
it  was  occupied  by  other  things,  it  is  hard  to  say — proba- 
bly both  ;  so,  on  hearing  Geoffrey  Hampstead,  the  paying- 
teller,  getting  ready  to  go  away,  he  leaned  over  the  parti- 
tion and  said,  in  an  aggrieved  tone : 

"  Look  here,  Geoffrey,  I'm  three  cents  out  in  my  bal- 
ance." 

A  strong,  well-toned  voice  answered  carelessly,  "  That 
is  becoming  a  pretty  old  story  with  you.  Jack.  You're 
always  out.  However,  make  yourself  comfortable,  dear 
boy,  as  you  will  doubtless  be  at  it  a  good  while."  Then, 
as  he  put  on  his  hat  and  sauntered  away,  Geoffrey  added 
a  little  more  comfort.  "  If  you  really  intend  to  bring  it 
out  right,  you  had  better  arrange  to  guard  the  bank  to- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


night.  You  can  do  both  at  once,  you  know,  and  get  your 
pay  as  well,  while  you  work  on  comfortably  till  morning." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  If  you'll  get  these  three 
cents  right  for  me,  I'll  stand  the  dinners." 

"  Much  obliged.  Mr.  Hampstead  has  the  pleasure  of 
regretting.  Prior  engagement.  Has  asked  Mr.  Maurice 
Rankin  to  dine  with  him  at  the  club.  But  perhaps,  even 
without  your  handsome  reward,  we  might  get  these  figures 
straightened  out  for  you."  Then,  taking  off  his  coat, 
"  You  had  better  take  a  bite  with  us  if  we  can  finish  this 
in  time." 

Geoffrey  came  up  to  the  books  and  "  took  hold,"  while 
Jack,  now  in  re-established  good  humor,  amused  himself 
by  keeping  up  a  running  fire  of  comments.  "Aha!  me 
noble  lord  condescends  to  dine  the  poor  legal  scribe.  1 
wonder,  now,  what  led  you  to  ask  Maurice  Rankin  to  dine 
with  you.  You  can't  make  anything  out  of  Morry.  He 
hasn't  got  a  cent  in  the  world,  unless  he  got  that  police- 
court  case.  Not  a  reu  shekel  has  he,  and  me  noble  lord 
asks  him  to  dinner — which  is  the  humor  of  it !  Now,  I 
would  like  to  know  what  you  want  with  Rankin.  You 
know  you  never  do  anything  without  some  motive.  You 
see  I  know  you  pretty  well.     Gad  !  I  do." 

Geoffrey  was  working  away  under  this  harangue,  with 
one  ear  open,  like  a  telegraph  operator,  for  Jack's  re- 
marks. He  said  :  "  Can  not  a  fellow  do  a  decent  thing 
once  in  a  way  without  hearing  from  you  ? " 

"Not  you,"  cried  Jack,  "not  you.  I'll  never  believe 
you  ever  did  a  decent  thing  in  your  life  without  some 
underground  motive." 

Geoffrey  smiled  over  the  books,  where  he  was  adding 
three  columns  of  figures  at  once,  lost  the  addition,  and 
had  to  begin  at  the  bottom  again ;  and  Jack,  who  thought 
that  never  man  breathed  like  Geoffrey,  looked  a  little 
fondly  and  very  admiringly  at  the  way  his  friend's  back 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


You 
You 


towered  up  from  the  waist  to  the  massive  shoulders — and 
smiled  too. 

Jack's  smile  was  expansive  and  contagious.  It  lighted 
up  the  whole  man — some  said  the  whole  room — but  never 
more  brightly  than  when  with  Hampstead.  Geoffrey  had  a 
fascination  for  him>  and  his  admiration  had  reached  such 
a  climax  after  nearly  two  years'  intercourse  that  he  now 
thought  there  was  but  little  within  the  reach  of  man  that 
Geoffrey  could  not  accomplish  if  he  wished.  It  was  not 
merely  that  he  was  good  looking  and  had  an  easy  way 
with  him  and  was  in  a  general  way  a  favorite — not  merely 
th  it  he  seemed  to  make  more  of  Jack  than  of  others.  Hamp- 
stead had  a  power  of  some  kind  about  him  that  harnessed 
others  besides  Jack  to  his  chariot-wheels ;  and,  much  as 
Cresswell  liked  to  exhibit  Geoffrey's  seamy  side  to  him 
when  he  thought  he  discovered  flaws,  he  nevertheless  had 
admitted  to  an  outsider  that  the  reason  he  liked  Hampstead 
was  that  he  was  "  such  an  altogether  solid  man — solid  in 
his  sports,  solid  in  his  work,  solid  in  his  virtues,  and,  as 
to  the  other  way — well,  enough  said."  But  the  chief 
reason  lay  in  the  great  mental  and  bodily  vigor  that  nearly 
always  emanated  from  Geoffrey,  casting  its  spell,  more  or 
less  effectively,  for  good  or  evil.  With  most  people  it  vas 
impossible  to  ignore  his  presence ;  and  his  figure  was  pre- 
possessing from  the  extraordinary  power,  grace,  and  capa- 
city for  speed  which  his  every  movement  interpreted. 

It  was  his  face  that  bothered  observant  loungers  in  the 
clubs.  For  statuary,  a  sculptor  could  utilize  it  to  repre- 
sent the  face  of  an  angel  or  a  devil  with  equal  facility — 
but  no  second-class  devil  or  angel.  Its  permanent  ex- 
pression was  that  which  a  man  exhibits  when  exercising 
his  will-power.  The  tenacious  long  jaw  had  a  squareness 
underneath  it  that  seemed  to  be  in  keeping  with  the  length 
of  the  upper  lip.  The  high,  long  nose  made  its  usual  sug- 
gestions, two  furrows  between  the  thick  eyebrows  could 


6 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


ordinarily  be  seen,  and  the  protuberant  bumps  over  the 
eyes  gave  additional  strength.  The  eyes  were  light  blue 
or  steel  gray,  according  to  the  lights  or  the  humor  he  was 
in.  An  intellectual  forehead,  beveled  off  under  the  low- 
growing  hair,  might  suggest  that  the  higher  moral  aspira- 
tions would  not  so  frequently  call  for  the  assistance  of  the 
determination  depicted  in  the  face  as  would  the  other 
qualities  shown  in  the  width  and  weight  of  head  behind  the 
ears. 

But  Jack  did  not  believe  what  he  said  in  his  tirades, 
and  his  good-will  makes  him  lax  in  condemnation  of  things 
which  in  others  he  would  have  denounced.  What  Geof- 
frey said  or  did,  so  far  as  Jack  knew,  met,  at  his  hands, 
with  an  easy  indifference  if  culpable,  and  a  kindling  ad- 
miration if  apparently  virtuous.  The  two  had  lived  to- 
gether for  a  long  time,  and  no  one  knew  better  than 
Geoffrey  how  trustworthy  Jack  was.  Consequently,  he 
sometimes  entered  into  little  confidences  concerning  his 
experiences,  which  he  glossed  over  with  a  certain  amount 
of  excuse,  so  that  the  moral  laxity  in  them  did  not 
fuliy  appear;  and  what  with  the  intensity  of  his  speech, 
his  word  painting,  and  enthusiastic  face,  a  greater  stoic 
than  poor  Jack  might  have  caught  the  fire,  and  perhaps 
condoned  the  offense. 

Jack  thought  he  knew  Hampstead  pretty  well. 
On  the  other  side,  Hampstead,  though  keen  at  dis- 
cerning character,  confessed  to  himself  that  Jack  was  the 
only  person  he  could  say  he  knew. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


CHAPTER    II. 

This  fellow  mijjfht  he  in's  time  u  great  buyer  of  land,  with  his  statutes, 
hiH  fines,  his  double  vouchera,  his  ricoveriea. — Hamlet. 

As  Jack  expected,  it  did  not  take  long  for  his  friend 
Hampstead  to  show  where  the  mistake  about  the  three 
cents  lay  ;  and  then  they  sallied  forth  for  a  little  stroll  on 
King  Street  before  dinner. 

They  lived  in  adjoining  chambers  in  the  Tremaine 
Buildings  on  King  Street.  The  rooms  had  been  intended 
for  law  offices,  and  were  reached  by  a  broad  fligh;  of 
stairs  leading  up  from  the  street  below.  Here  they  were 
within  five  minutes'  walk  of  their  bank  or  the  club  at 
which  they  generally  took  their  meals.  Hampstead  had 
first  taken  these  rooms  because  they  were  in  a  manner  so 
isolated  in  the  throng  of  the  city  and  afforded  an  uncon- 
trolled liberty  of  ingress  and  egress  to  young  men  whose 
hours  for  retiring  to  rest  were  governed  by  no  hard  and 
fast  rules. 

A  widow  named  Priest  lived  somewhere  about  the  top 
of  the  building,  with  her  son,  who  was  known  to  the  young 
gentlemen  as  Patsey.  Mrs.  Priest  made  the  beds,  did  the 
washing,  attended  to  the  fires,  and  was  generally  useful.  She 
also  cleaned  offices,  even  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  great 
building,  and  altogether  made  a  good  thing  of  it ;  for  be- 
sides the  remunerations  derived  in  these  ways  she  had  her 
perquisites.  For  instance,  in  the  ten  years  of  her  careful 
guardianship  of  chambers  and  offices  in  the  building,  she 
had  never  bought  any  coal  or  wood.  She  possessed  dupli- 
cate keys  for  each  room  in  her  charge,  and  thus  having  a 
large  number  of  places  to  pillage  she  levied  on  them  all, 
according  to  the  amount  of  fuel  she  could  safely  carry  away 
from  each  place  without  its  being  missed.     Young  men 


10 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


who  occupied  chambers  there  never  had  to  give  away  or 
sell  old  clothes,  because  they  were  never  found  to  be  in 
the  way.  She  asked  for  them  when  she  wanted  to  cut 
them  down  for  Patsey,  because  it  would  not  do  to  have 
the  owners  recognize  the  cloth  on  him.  The  clothes 
which  she  annexed  as  perquisites  she  sold. 

Patsey  was  accustomed  occasionally  to  go  through  the 
wardrobes  of  the  gentlemen  with  his  mother,  while  she 
made  the  beds  in  the  morning,  and  he  then  chose  the  gar- 
ments that  most  appealed  to  his  artistic  taste.  This  in- 
teresting heir  to  Mrs.  Priest's  personal  estate  also  had  his 
perquisites  "  unbeknownst  to  ma."  He  consumed  a  sur- 
prising amount  of  tobacco  for  one  so  young,  and  might 
frequently  be  seen  parading  King  Street  on  a  summer 
evening  enjoying  a  cigar  altogether  beyond  his  years  and 
income.  His  clothes  bore  the  pattern  of  the  fashion  in 
vogue  three  or  four  years  back  ;  and,  despite  some  changes 
brought  about  by  the  scissois  of  Mrs.  Priest,  the  material, 
which  had  been  the  best  Toronto  could  provide,  still  re- 
tained much  of  the  glory  that  had  captivated  King  Street 
not  so  very  long  ago.  Having  finally  declared  war  against 
education  in  all  its  recognized  branches,  he  generally 
took  himself  off  early  in  the  day,  and  lounged  about  the 
docks,  or  derived  an  indifferently  good  revenue  from  the 
sale  of  ferry-boat  tickets  to  the  island  ;  and  in  various  other 
ways  did  Patsey  provide  himself  with  the  luxuries  and  en- 
joyments of  a  regular  topsawyer. 

In  the  immediate  neighborhood  v  f  Mrs.  Priest,  at  an 
altitude  in  the  building  which  has  never  been  exactly  as- 
certained, dwelt  Mr.  Maurice  Rankin,  barrister-at-law  and 
solicitor  of  the  Supreme  Court.  He  resided  in  Chambers, 
No.  173  Tremaine  Buildings,  King  Street,  West,  Toronto, 
and  certainly  all  this  looked  very  legal  and  satisfactory 
on  the  professional  card  which  he  had  had  printed.  But 
the  inttiior  appearance  of  the  chambers  was  not  calculated 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


II 


e  away  or 
d  to  be  in 
ed  to  cut 
0  to  have 
e  clothes 

rough  the 
ivhile  she 
'  the  gar- 

This  in- 
'  had  his 
ed  a  sur- 
d  might 
summer 
ears  and 
shion  in 
changes 
tiaterial, 
still  re- 
J  Street 
against 
nerally 
mt  the 
)m  the 

other 
tid  en- 

at  an 
:ly  as- 
IV  and 
ibers, 
onto, 
ctory 
But 
lated 


to  inspire  confidence  in  the  profession  of  the  law  as  a 
kind  nurse  for  aspiring  merit ;  and  as  for  the  approach  to 
No.  173,  it  was  so  intricate  and  dark  in  its  last  few  flights 
of  stairs,  that  none  but  a  practiced  foot  could  venture  up 
or  down  without  a  light,  even  in  the  daytime.  The  room 
occupied  by  Mr.  Rankin  could  never  have  been  intended 
to  be  used  as  an  office,  or  perhaps  anything  else,  and  con- 
sequently the  numbers  of  the  rooms  in  the  buildings  had 
not  been  carried  up  to  the  extraordinary  elevation  in 
which  No.  173  might  now  be  found.  Stilly  it  seemed  pe- 
culiar not  to  have  the  number  of  oneV,  chambers  on  one's 
card,  if  chambers  should  be  mentioned  thereon,  so  he 
found  that  the  rooms  numbered  below  ended*  at  172,  and 
then  conscientiously  marked  "No.  173"  on  his  own 
door  with  a  piece  of  white  chalk.  He  also  carefully 
printed  his  name,  "  Mr,  Maurice  Rankin,"  on  the  cross- 
panel  and  added  the  letters  "  Q.  C." — just  to  see  how  the 
whole  thing  looked  and  assist  ambition ;  but  he  hurriedly 
rubbed  the  Q,  C.  out  on  hearing  Mrs.  Priest  approach  for 
one  of  her  interminable  conversations  from  which  there 
was  seldom  any  escape.  When  Rankin  first  came  to  Tre- 
maine  Buildings  he  lived  in  one  of  the  lower  rooms,  now 
occupied  by  Jack  Cresswell,  and  not  without  some  style 
and  comrort — taking  his  meals  at  the  club,  as  our  friends 
now  did.  His  father,  who  had  been  a  well-known  broker, 
— a  widower — kept  his  horses,  and  brought  up  his  son  in 
luxury.  He  then  failed,  after  Maurice  had  entered  the 
Toronto  University,  and,  unable  to  endure  the  break-up 
of  the  results  of  his  life's  hard  work,  he  died,  leaving 
Maurice  a  few  hundred  dollars  that  came  to  him  out  of 
the  life-insurance. 

It  was  with  a  view  to  economy  that  our  legal  friend 
came  to  live  in  the  Tremaine  Buildings  after  leaving  the 
university  and  articling  himself  as  a  clerk  in  one  of  the 
leading  law  firms  in  the  city,  where  he  got  paid  nothing. 


la 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


il 


The  more  his  little  capital  dwindled,  the  harder  he  worked. 
Soon  the  first  set  of  chambers  were  relinquished  for  a 
higher,  cheaper  room,  and  the  meals  were  taken  per 
contract,  by  the  week,  at  a  cheap  hotel.  Then  he  had  to 
get  some  clothes,  which  further  reduced  the  little  fund. 
So  he  took  "  a  day's  march  nearer  home,"  as  he  called  it, 
and  removed  his  effects  au  quatrilme  /tagCy  and  from  that 
ail  cinquilme — and  so  on  and  up.  Regular  meals  at  hotels 
now  belonged  to  the  past.  A  second-hand  coal-oil  stove 
was  purchased,  together  with  a  few  cheap  plates  and  arti- 
cles of  cutlery ;  and  here  Rankin  retired,  when  hungry, 
with  a  bit  of  steak  rolled  up  in  'ather  unpleasant  brown 
paper  ;  and,' after  producing  part  of  a  loaf  and  a  slab  of 
butter  on  a  plate,  he  cooked  a  trifle  of  steak  about  the 
size  of  a  flat-iron,  and  caroused.  This  he  called  the  feast 
of  independence  and  the  reward  of  merit. 

Among  his  possessions  could  be  found  a  wooden  bed 
and  bedding — clean,  but  not  springy — also  a  small  deal  ta- 
ble, and  an  old  bureau  with  both  hind-legs  gone.  But  the 
bureau  stood  up  bravely  when  propped  against  the  wall. 
These  were  souvenirs  of  a  transaction  with  a  second-hand 
dealer.  In  winter  he  set  up  an  old  coal-stove  which  had 
been  abandoned  in  an  empty  room  in  the  building,  and  this 
proved  of  vast  service,  inasmuch  as  the  beef-steak  and  tea 
could  be  heated  in  the  stove,  thereby  saving  the  price  of 
coal-oil.  It  will  occur  to  the  eagle-eyed  reader  that  the 
price  of  coal  would  more  than  exceed  the  price  of  coal-oil. 
On  this  point  Rankin  did  not  converse.  Although  he 
started  out  with  as  high  principles  of  honor  as  the  son  of  a 
stock-broker  is  expected  to  have,  it  must  be  confessed 
that  he  did  not  at  this  time  buy  his  coal.  Therefore  there 
was  a  palpable  economy  in  the  use  of  the  derelict  stove — 
to  say  nothing  of  its  necessary  warmth.  No  mention  of 
coal  was  ever  made  between  Rankin  and  Mrs.  Priest ; 
but  as  Maurice  rose  in  the  world,  intellectually  and  resi- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


13 


s  worked, 
led  for  a 
iken  per 
»e  had  to 
tie  fund, 
called  it, 
rem  that 
at  hotels 
oil  stove 
ind  arti- 
hungry, 
t  brown 
slab  of 
out  the 
he  feast 

en  bed 
deal  ta- 
But  the 
5  wall. 
I-hand 
:h  had 
id  this 
id  tea 
ice  of 

t  the 

il-oil. 

h  he 

of  a 

ssed 

here 

ve — 

n  of 

est ; 

resi- 


dentially,  Mrs.  Priest  saw  that  his  monetary  condition  was 
depressed  in  an  inverse  ratio,  and  being  in  many  ways  a 
well-intentioned  woman,  she  commenced  bringing  a  pail  of 
coal  to  his  room  every  morning,  which  generally  served  to 
keep  the  fire  alight  for  twenty-four  hours  in  moderate 
weather.  Maurice  at  first  salved  his  conscience  with  the 
idea  that  she  was  returning  the  coal  she  hcid  "  borrowed  " 
from  him  during  his  more  palmy  days.  After  the  first  win- 
ter, however,  when  he  had  suffered  a  good  deal  from  cold, 
his  conscience  became  more  elastic  and  communistic  ; 
and  ten  o'clock  p.  m.  generally  saw  him  performing  a  soli- 
tary and  gloomy  journey  to  unknown  regions  with  a  coal- 
scuttle in  one  hand  and  a  wooden  pail  in  the  other.  Jack 
Cresswell  had  come  across  this  coal-scuttle  one  night  in  a 
distant  corridor.  He  filled  it  with  somebody  else's  coal 
and  came  up  with  it  to  Rankin's  room — his  face  beaming 
with  enjoyment — and,  entering  on  tip-toe,  whispered  mys- 
teriously the  word  "  pickings."  Then,  after  walking  around 
the  room  in  the  stealthy  manner  of  the  stage  villain  who 
inspects  the  premises  before  "  removing  "  the  infant  heir, 
he  dumped  the  scuttle  on  the  floor  and  gasped,  breath- 
lessly, "  A  gift !  " 

Rankin  put  aside  Byles  on  Bills  and  arose  with  dignity  : 
"  What  say  you,  henchman  ?  Pickings  ?  A  gift  ?  Ay, 
truly,  a  goodly  pickings  !  Filched,  perchance,  from  the 
pursy  coal-bins  of  monopoly  ? " 

"  Even  so,"  was  the  reply,  given  with  bated  breath  ; 
and  with  his  finger  to  his  lips,  to  imply  that  he  was  on  a 
criminal  adventure,  Jack  again  inspected  the  premises 
with  much  stealth  and  agility,  and  disappeared  as  myste- 
riously as  he  had  come.  If  Jack  or  Geoffrey  ever  saw 
anything  lying  about  the  premises  they  thought  would  be 
of  use  to  Rankin,  there  was  a  nocturnal  steal,  and  up  it 
went  to  Rankin's  room.     This  was  sport. 

In  this  way  Rankin  lived.     With  one  idea  set  before 


H 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD, 


him,  he  grappled  with  the  leather-covered  books  that  came 
by  ones  and  twos  into  his  room,  until,  when  the  great 
struggle  came  at  his  final  examinations,  he  was  surprised 
to  find  he  had  come  out  so  well,  and  quite  charmed  when 
he  returned  from  Osgoode  Hall  to  his  dreary  room,  a  so- 
licitor of  the  Supreme  Court  and  a  barrister-at-law.  with 
a  light  heart,  and  not  a  single  solitary  cent  in  the  wide 
world. 


CHAPTER   in. 

Frien'ship  maks  us  a'  mair  happy, 

Frien'ship  gies  us  a'  delight ; 
Frien'ship  consecrates  the  drappie, 

Frien'ship  brings  us  here  to-night. 

Robert  Burns. 

At  the  opening  of  this  story,  about  six  months  had 
elapsed  since  Rankin  had  been  licensed  to  prey  upon  the 
public,  and  as  yet  he  had  not  despoiled  it  to  any  great  ex- 
tent. If  he  had  kept  body  and  soul  together,  it  was  done 
in  ways  that  are  not  enticing  to  young  gentlemen  who 
dream  of  attacking  the  law  single-handed. 

An  old  lawyer  named  Bean  had  an  office  in  the  lower 
part  of  Tremaine  Buildings,  and  Maurice  arranged  with 
him  to  occupy  one  of  the  ancient  desks  in  his  office,  and, 
in  consideration  of  answering  all  questions  as  to  the  where- 
abouts of  Mr.  Bean,  the  privilege  of  office-room  was  given 
to  him  rent-free.  As  Mr.  Bean  had  no  clients,  and  as  Ran- 
kin never  knew  where  he  was,  this  duty  was  a  light  one. 
He  also  had  from  Mr.  Bean  the  privilege  of  putting  his 
name  up  on  the  door,  and,  of  course,  as  frequently  and  as 
alluringly  along  the  passage  and  on  the  stairs  as  he  might 
think  desirable.  But  it  was  set  out  very  clearly  in  the 
agreement,  which  Rankin  carefully  drew  up  and  Bean  pre- 


m 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


15 


tended  to  revise,  that  Mr.  Rankin  should  not  in  any  way 
interfere  with  the  clients  of  Mr.  Bean,  and  that  Mr.  Bean 
should  not  in  any  way  interfere  with  the  clients  of  the 
aforesaid  Rankin. 

Bean  had  a  little  money,  which  he  seemed  to  spend  ex- 
clusively in  the  consumption  of  mixed  drinks ;  and  what- 
ever else  he  did  during  the  day,  besides  expending  his  in- 
come in  this  way,  certainly  engrossed  his  attention  to  a 
very  large  extent.  When  he  looked  into  the  office  daily, 
or,  say,  bi-weekly,  it  was  only  for  a  few  moments — except 
when  he  fell  asleep  in  his  chair. 

It  was  after  he  had  been  five  or  six  months  with  Mr. 
Bean  that  Geoffrey  Hampstead  had  asked  Rankin  to  din- 
ner. He  locked  up  the  office  about  five  o'clock,  having 
closed  the  dampers  in  the  stove  (Bean  supplied  the  coal — 
a  great  relief)  and  putting  the  key  in  his  pocket,  he  ascend- 
ed to  No.  173  for  a  while,  and  then  he  came  down  to  Hamp- 
stead's  chambers,  where  he  found  our  two  bank  friends 
taking  a  glass  of  sherry  and  bitters  to  give  their  appetites 
a  tone,  which  was  a  very  unnecessary  proceeding. 

"  Hello,  old  man  !  How  are  you  ?  "  cried  Hampstead 
in  a  hearty  voice,  handing  him  a  wine  glass. 

"  Ah !  How  am  I  ?  Just  so  !  "  quoth  Rankin,  helping 
himself.  "  How  should  a  man  be,  who  is  on  the  high  road 
to  fortune  ?  " 

*'  He  ought  to  be  pretty  chirpy,  I  should  think,'*  said 
Jack. 

"  Chirpy  !  That's  the  word.  *  Chirpy  '  describes  me. 
So  does  *  fit.'  The  money  is  rolling  in,  gentlemen.  Busi- 
ness is  on  the  full  upward  boom,  and  I  feel  particularly 
*  fit '  to-day — also  chirpy." 

"  Got  a  partnership  ? "  inquired  Geoffrey,  with  interest. 

"I  suppose  you  mean  a  partnership  with  Mr.  Bean, 
and  I  answer  emphatically  *  No.'  I  refer  to  my  own 
business,  sir,  and  I  have  no  intention  of  taking  Mr.  Bean 


16 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


Ill 


11 


II  i 


into  partnership.  Bean  is  dying  for  a  partnership  with 
me.  Sha'n't  take  Bean  in.  A  client  of  mine  came  in  to- 
day—" 

"Great  Scott!  you  haven't  got  a  client,  have  you?" 
cried  Geoffrey,  starting  from  his  chair. 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,"  said  Mr.  Rankin.  "  As  I  was 
saying,"  he  added  with  composure,  "  a  client  of  mine — " 

"  No,  no,  Morry  !  This  is  too  much.  If  you  want  us 
to  believe  you,  give  us  some  particulars  about  this  client — 
just  as  an  evidence  of  good  faith,  you  know." 

"  The  client  you  are  so  inquisitive  about,"  said  Rankin, 
with  dignity,  "  is  a  lady  who  has  been,  in  a  sense,  prema- 
turely widowed — " 

"  It's  Mrs.  Priest,"  said  Jack,  turning  to  Geoffrey.  **  He 
has  been  defending  her  for  stealing  coal,  sure  as  you're 
born  ! " 

"  The  lady  came  to  me,"  said  Maurice,  taking  no  no- 
tice of  the  interruption,  "  about  a  month  ago,  apparently 
with  a  view  to  taking  proceedings  for  alimony — at  least  her 
statement  suggested  this — " 

"  By  Jove,  this  is  getting  interesting !  "  said  Jack. 

"  But  on  questioning  the  unfortunate  woman  as  to  her 
means,  I  found  that  her  funds  were  in  a  painfully  low  con- 
dition— in  fact,  at  a  disgustingly  low  ebb,  viewed  from  a 
professional  standpoint.  And  I  also  found  that  her  hus- 
band had  offered  her  four  dollars  a  week,  to  be  paid 
weekly,  on  condition  that  he  should  never  see  her  and 
that  somebody  else  should  collect  the  money.  The  hus- 
band was  evidently  a  bold,  bad  man  to  have  given  rise  to 
the  outbursts  of  jealously  which  it  pained  me  to  listen  to, 
and  the  poor  lady,  forgetful  of  my  presence  and  with  all 
the  ability  of  an  ancient  prophet,  denounced  two  or  three 
women  both  jointly  and  severally.  She  then  roused  her- 
self, and  asked  what  I  would  charge  to  collect  her  four 
dollars  per  week.     This  seemed  to  decide  the  alimony 


m 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


17 


ership  with 
came  in  to- 

ave  you?" 

"  As  I  was 
"  mine — " 
Du  want  us 
lis  client — 

id  Rankin, 
se,  prema- 

i-ey.  "He 
■  as  you're 

»g  no  no- 
pparently 
:  least  her 

ack. 

as  to  her 
low  con- 
i  from  a 
her  hus- 
be  paid 
her  and 

he  hus- 
1  rise  to 
isten  to, 
with  all 
3r  three 

ed  her- 
er  four 

limony 


suit  in  the  negative,  and  from  the  fact  that  she  was,  not 
to  put  too  fine  a  point  upon  it,  three  parts  drunk  at  the 
time,  I  thought  it  better  to  say  what  I  would  do.  So  now 
I  collect  four  dollars  a  week  from  her  husband  and  pay  it 
over  to  her  every  Saturday,  for  which  I  deduct,  each  time, 
the  sum  of  twenty-five  cents.  There  is  a  good  deal  of 
money  to  be  made  in  the  practice  of  the  law." 

"  What  about  the  husband  ? "  asked  Jack,  laughing. 

"  I  believe  that  I  was  invited  to-day  to  dine — at  least 
I  came  with  that  intention.  Instead  of  talking  any  more, 
I  would  be  better  satisfied  if  somebody  produced  so  much 
as  the  photograph  of  a  chicken— and  after  that  I  will 
further  to  you  unfold  my  tale," 

Mr.  Rankin  slapped  a  waistcoat  that  appeared  to  be 
unduly  slack  about  the  lower  buttons. 

They  then  repaired  to  the  club,  where,  having  but  a 
small  appetite  himself,  and  the  representatives  of  bank 
distinguishing  themselves  more  than  he  could  as  trencher- 
men, Rankin  kept  the  ball  rolling  by  relating  his  experi- 
ences as  a  barrister,  which  seemed  to  amuse  his  two 
friends.  These  experiences,  leading  to  police-court  items 
and  police-court  savages,  brought  up  the  question  of 
"  What  is  a  savage  ? " — which  introduced  the  Fuegians, 
the  wild  natives  of  Queensland,  the  Mayalans,  and  others, 
with  whom  Hampstead  compared  the  lowest-class  Irish. 
He  had  profited  by  much  travel  and  reading,  and  anthro- 
pology was  a  subject  on  which  he  could  be  rather  brill- 
iant. To  show  how  our  civilization  is  a  mere  veneer,  he 
drew  a  comparison  between  savage  and  civilized  fashions, 
and  brought  out  facts  culled  from  many  different  peoples 
— not  omitting  Schweinfurth's  Monbuttoo  women — as  to 
the  primitive  nature  of  the  dress-improver.  Then,  some- 
how, the  conversation  got  back  to  the  police  court,  and 
the  question,  "  What  is  a  criminal  ?  "  and  they  agreed 
that  if  the  harm  done  to  others  was  one  criterion  of  guilt, 


i8 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


lii  ' 


IS 


ffl 


ill  II 


it  seemed  a  pity  that  some  things — woman's  gossip,  for  in- 
stance— went  so  frequently  unpunished. 

"  And  I  think,"  broke  in  Cresswell,  after  the  subject 
had  been  well  thrashed,  *'  that  you  two  fellows  are  talk- 
ing a  good  deal  of  what  you  know  very  little  about. 
After  all  your  chatter,  I  think  the  point  is  right  here  (and 
I  put  it  in  the  old-fashioned  way)  •  If  one  does  wrong  he 
violates  his  own  appreciation  of  right,  and  his  guilt  can 
only  be  measured  by  the  way  he  tramples  on  his  con- 
science, and  as  consdence  varies  in  almost  every  person, 
I  think  we  had  better  give  up  wading  into  abstractions 
and  come  down  to  the  concrete — to  the  solid  enjoyment 
of  a  pipe."     And  Jack  pushed  back  his  chair. 

"  Then,  according  to  you,  Jack,  a  fellow  with  no  con- 
science would  in  human  judgment  have  no  guilt,"  laughed 
Hampstead. 

"  I  don't  believe  there  exists  a  sane  man  in  the  world 
without  a  conscience,"  replied  Jack,  with  his  own  optimism. 

"  I  don't  think  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Rankin.  "  I 
feel  sure  there  are  men  who,  if  they  ever  had  a  conscience, 
have  trained  it  into  such  elasticity  that  they  may  be  said 
to  have  none.     Do  you  not  think  so,  Hampstead  ?  " 

"  Really,  I  hardly  know.  I  haven't  thought  much 
upon  the  subject,  but  I  think  we  ought,  if  we  do  possess 
any  conscience  ourselves,  to  give  Jack  a  chance  to  light 
his  pipe." 

They  soon  sauntered  back  to  the  Tremaine  Buildings, 
where  Jack  sat  down  at  the  piano  and  played  to  them. 
While  Jack  plaved  on,  Geoffrey  seemed  interested  in 
police-court  items,  but  Rankin  preferred  listening  to 
Beethoven  and  Mozart  to  "talking  shop."  After  they 
had  sung  some  sea-songs  together  and  chatted  over  a 
glass  of  "  something  short,"  Rankin  said  good-night  and 
mounted  to  No.  173  on  the  invisible  stairs  with  as  much 
activity  as  if  daylight  were  assisting  him. 


GEOFFREY   !IAMPSTEAD. 


»9 


Having  lit  his  lamp,  he  soliloquized,  as  he  attended  to 
some  faults  in  his  complexion  before  a  small  looking-glass, 
"  So  I  have  got  another  client,  I  perceive.  That  dinner 
to-day  was  a  fee — nothing  else  in  the  world.  I  don't 
know  now  that  I  altogether  like  my  new  client.  He 
evidently  didn't  get  what  he  wanted.  Perhaps  Jack  was 
in  the  way.  Now,  I  wonder  what  the  beggar  does  w'ant. 
Chances  are  I'll  have  another  dinner  soon.  Happy 
thought !  make  him  keep  on  dining  me  ad  infinitum  I 
Ornamental  dinner  !     Pleasant  change  !  " 

Maurice  undressed  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room.  "Perhaps  I  am  all  wrong,  though,"  said  he.  "  I 
can't  help  liking  him  in  many  ways,  and  he's  chock-full 
of  interesting  information.  How  odd  that  he  didn't  know 
anything  about  a  feilow  having  no  conscience.  Hadn't 
thought  over  that  idea.  Very  likely  !  Gad  !  I  could 
imagine  him  just  such  a  one,  now  that  I  have  got  sus- 
picious. He  has  a  bad  eye  when  he  doesn't  look  after  it. 
It  doesn't  always  smile  along  with  his  mouth.  I  may  be 
wrong,  but  I  believe  there's  something  there  that's  not  the 
clean  wheat,"  and  Maurice  ascended  to  the  woolsack  and 
disappeared  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


How  can  I  tell  the  feelings  in  a  young  lady's  mind  ;  the  thoughts  in  a 
young  gentlempn's  bosom  ?  As  Professor  Owen  takes  a  fragment  of  bone 
and  builds  a  forgotten  monster  out  of  it,  so  the  novelist  puts  this  and  that 
together  :  from  the  foot-prints  finds  the  foot ;  from  the  foot,  the  brute  who 
trod  on  it ;  .  .  .  traces  this  slimy  reptile  through  the  mud ;  .  .  .  prods  down 
this  butterfly  with  a  pin.— Thackeray  {The  Newcomes). 

Hampstead  did  not  go  to  sleep,  after  Rankin  had  re- 
tired, as  early  as  he  expected.     Jack  Cresswell  followed 


20 


GEOFFREY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


'':    f 


I  '' 


m\ 


him  into  his  bedroom  and  sat  down,  lit  another  pipe,  and 
then  walked  about,  and  seemed  preoccupied,  as  he  had  all 
the  evening.  Geoffrey  did  not  speak  to  him  at  first,  as 
this  was  not  an  unusual  proceeding  between  the  two,  but, 
having  got  into  bed  and  made  himself  comfortable  by  bully- 
ing the  pillows  into  the  proper  shape  and  position,  ad- 
dressed his  friend : 

**  Now,  old  man,  unburden  your  mind.  I  know  you 
want  to  tell  me  something,  but  do  not  be  surprised  if  you 
find  me  asleep  before  you  get  your  second  wind.  If  you 
care  for  me,  cut  it  short." 

"  Got  a  letter  to-day,"  said  Jack,  **  from  her." 

•'  Well,  Jack,  as  you  seem,  with  some  eccentricity,  to 
have  only  one  *'  her,"  of  course  I  am  interested.  Your 
feelings  in  that  quarter  never  fail  in  their  attraction.  Pour 
into  my  devoted  ear  for  the  next  five  minutes  (not  longer) 
a  synopsis  of  your  woes  or  joys.  What  is  it  you  want  to- 
night ?     Congratulation  or  balm  for  wounds  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  wish  to  keep  you  awake,"  said  Jack  testi- 
ly, rising,  as  if  to  depart. 

"  Go  on,  sir.     Go  on,  sir.     Your  story  interests  me." 

Geoffrey  assumed  an  attitude  of  attention.  Jack  smiled 
and  sat  down  again.  He  had  no  intention  of  going  away. 
He  had  thought  over  his  letter  all  day,  till  at  last  a  confi- 
dential friend  seemed  almost  necessary. 

"  My  letter  comes  from  London.  They've  returned 
from  the  Continent,  and,  as  they  are  now  most  likely  on  the 
sea,  she'll  be  at  home  in  about  a  week."  And  Jack  seemed 
in  a  high  state  of  satisfaction. 

"  Well,  well !  I  never  saw  a  real  goddess  in  my  life," 
said  Geoffrey.  "  And  there  is  no  doubt  about  Miss  Lin- 
don  being  one,  because  I  have  listened  to  you  for  two 
years,  and  now  I  know  that  she  is  what  I  have  long  wished 
to  see." 

"  It  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  have  you  know 


t 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


21 


her.  I  have  looked  forward  tremendously  to  that.  Next 
to  meeting  her  myself  comes  the  idea  of  we  three  being 
jolly  good  friends,  and  going  around  together  on  little  jam- 
borees to  concerts  and  that  sort  of  thing.  I  havn't  a  doubt 
but  what  we  three  will  'get  on '  amazingly." 

"  Playing  gooseberry  with  success  requires  a  clever 
person,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  I  don't  think  I'm  quite  equal  to 
the  call  for  the  tact  and  loss  of  individuality  which  the 
position  demands.  However,  dear  boy,  I  am  quite  aware 
that  to  introduce  me  to  the  lady  of  your  heart  as  your  par- 
ticular friend  is  the  greatest  compliment  one  fellow  can  pay 
another — all  things  considered.  Don't  you  ihrnk  so  ?  Oh, 
yes,  I  dare  say  we  will  be  a  trio  quite  out  of  the  common. 
But,  if  she  is  as  pretty  as  you  say  she  is,  I'll  have  to  look 
at  her,  you  know.  Can't  help  looking  at  a  handsome 
woman,  even  if  she  were  hedged  in  with  as  many  prohibi- 
tions as  the  royal  family.  You'll  have  to  get  accustomed 
to  that^  of  course." 

"  But  that's  the  very  reason  why  I  want  you  to  know 
her,"  said  Jack,  in  his  whole-souled  way.  "  I  really  often 
feel  as  if  her  beauty  and  brightness  and  her  power  of 
pleasing  many  should  not  be  altogether  monopolized  by 
any  one  man.  It  would  redouble  my  satisfaction  if  I 
thought  you  admired  her  also."  Jack  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment as  he  considered  that  her  power  of  "  pleasing  many  ** 
had  been  rather  larger  at  times  than  he  had  cared  about. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  she  has  enough  of  these  attractions 
for  me,  and  some  to  spare  for  others." 

Geoffrey  smiled  as  he  wondered  if  the  girl  herself 
thought  she  had  enough  to  spare  for  others  besides  Jack. 

*'  Young  man,  your  sentiments  do  you  credit !  It  must 
make  things  much  more  satisfactory  to  an  engaged  girl  to 
understand  that  she  is  expected  not  to  neglect  the  outside 
world  whenever  she  is  able  *  to  tear  herself  away,*  as  it 
were." 


lil 


22 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


WW 


■■\i 


"  I  see  you  grinning  to  yourself  under  the  bed-clothes," 
said  Jack,  who  rather  winced  at  this.  "  I  don't  know  that 
I  ever  asked  her  to  distribute  herself  more  than  she  did. 
On  the  contrary,  if  you  must  have  the  unvarnished  truth, 
quite  the  reverse."  Jack  reddened  as  he  ventilated  some 
of  the  truths  which  are  generally  suppressed.  '*  The  fact 
is,  it  was  rather  the  other  way.  I  frequently  have  acted 
like  a  donkey  when  I  didn't  get  her  undivided  attention. 
You  know  girls  often  get  accused  of  flirting,  and  when  one 
hears  their  own  explanation,  nothing  seems  clearer,  you 
know,  than  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  the  row  at  all." 

Geoffrey  thought  he  did  know,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Two  years,  though,  make  changes,  and  having  seen 
nothing  of  her  for  such  a  long  time,  I  feel  as  if  one  glimpse 
of  her  would  repay  me  for  all  the  waiting.  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  our  differences  again  if  you  had  not  raked 
them  up." 

"  Which  I  am  sorry  to  have  done,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  No 
doubt,  two  years  do  sometimes  make  a  difference.  I  am 
sure  you  treat  the  affaire  sublimely,  and,  if  she  is  equally 
generous  in  her  thoughts  of  you,  it  will  be  a  unique  thing 
to  gaze  upon  both  of  you  at  once." 

Jack  took  Geoffrey's  remarks  in  good  part,  for  he  had  got 
accustomed  to  the  cynical  way  the  latter  treated  most  things. 
It  was  his  %vayy  he  thought,  and  Geoffrey  was  "  such  an  all- 
round  good  fellow,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know," 
that  it  was  to  be  expected  that  he  should  have  "  ways." 
Besides  this,  Jack  had  seen  from  time  to  time  that,  though 
very  ready  to  recognize  sterling  merit,  Geoffrey  had  ability 
in  detecting  humbug,  and  that  he  considered  the  optimist 
had  too  many  chances  against  him  to  make  him  valuable  as 
a  prophet.  Thus,  when  he  spoke  in  this  way  of  Nina  Lin- 
don,  Jack  supposed  that  his  friend  had  his  doubts,  and, 
much  as  he  loved  her,  he  stopped,  like  many  another,  and 
asked  himself  whether  she  had  such  a  generosity  and  no- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


23 


bility  in  her  character  as  he  had  supposed.  This,  he  felt, 
was  rather  beneath  him  in  one  way,  and  rather  beyond  him 
in  another.  When  he  looked  for  admirable  traits,  he  re- 
membered several  instances  of  good-natured  impulse,  and 
while  the  graceful  manner  in  which  she  had  done  these 
things  rose  before  him,  he  grew  enthusiastic.  Then  he 
sought  to  call  up  for  inspection  the  qualities  he  took  ex- 
ception to.  That  she  had  seemed  inconsiderate  of  his 
feelings  at  times  seemed  true.  There  was,  he  thought,  a 
frivolity  about  her.  He  thought  life  had  for  him  some  few 
well-defined  realities,  and  that  she  had  never  seemed  to 
quite  grasp  the  true  inwardness  of  his  best  moments.  But 
all  was  explained  by  her  youth  and  the  adulation  paid  to 
her.  And  then  the  memory  of  her  soft  dark  eyes  and 
flute-like  voice,  the  various  allurements  of  her  vivacious 
manner  and  graceful  figure,  produced  an  enthusiasm  quite 
overwhelming.  So  he  laughed  at  the  defeat  of  his  impar- 
tiality, looked  over  at  Geoffrey,  who  was  peacefully  snoring 
by  this  time,  and  went  away  to  his  own  room.  But  deep 
down  in  his  heart  lay  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  which,  ;>  ith 
his  instinctive  courtesy,  he  never  approached  even  in 
an  examination  supposed  to  be  a  searching  one.  The 
inspection  of  it  seemed  a  sacrilege,  and  he  put  it  from 
him.  Nevertheless,  there  had  been  times  when  Jack  felt 
doubtful  as  to  whether  Nina  could  be  relied  upon  for 
absolute  truth. 

Joseph  Lindon,  the  father  of  Nina,  came  from — no 
person  seemed  to  know  where.  He,  or  his  family,  might 
have  come  from  the  north  of  Ireland  or  south  of  Scot- 
land, or  middle  of  England,  or  anywhere  else,  as  far  as 
any  one  could  judge  by  his  face  ;  and,  as  likely  as  not, 
his  lineage  was  a  mixture  of  Scotch,  Irish,  English,  or 
Dutch,  which  implanted  in  his  physiognomy  that  conglom- 
eration of  nationalities  which  now  defies  classification, 
but  seems  to  be  evolving  a  type  to  be  known  as  distinct- 


24 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


IK 


ively  Canadian.  His  accent  was  not  Irish,  Scotch,  Eng- 
lish, nor  Yankee.  It  was  a  collection  of  all  four,  which 
appeared  separately  at  odd  times,  and  it  was,  in  this  way, 
Canadian. 

His  family  records  had  not  been  kept,  or  Joseph 
would  certainly  have  produced  them,  if  creditable.  He  had 
the  appearance  of  a  self-made  man.  If  want  of  a  good  edu- 
cation somewhat  interfered  with  the  completeness  of  his 
social  success,  it  certainly  had  not  retarded  him  in  busi- 
ness circles.  If  he  had  swept  out  the  store  of  his  first 
employers,  those  employers  were  now  in  their  graves,  and 
of  those  who  knew  his  beginnings  in  Toronto  there  were 
none  with  the  temerity  to  remind  him  of  them.  Mr.  Lin- 
don  was  not  a  man  to  be  "  sat  upon."  He  had  a  bold  front, 
a  hard,  incisive  voice,  and  a  temper  that,  since  he  began  to 
feel  his  monetary  oats,  brooked  no  opposition.  He  might 
have  been  taken  for  a  farmer,  except  for  the  keenness 
of  his  eye  and  the  fact  that  his  clothes  were  city  made. 
These  two  differences,  however,  are  of  a  comprehensive 
kind. 

Mr.  Lindon,  early  in  life,  had  opened  a  small  shop,  and 
then  enlarged  it.  Having  been  successful,  he  sold  out, 
and  took  to  a  kind  of  broker,  money-lending,  and  land 
business,  and  being  one  who  devoted  his  whole  exist- 
ence to  the  development  of  the  main  chance,  with  a  deal 
of  native  ability  to  assist  him,  the  result  was  inevitable. 

His  entertainments  gave  satisfaction  to  those  who 
thought  they  knew  what  a  good  glass  of  wine  was.  Mr. 
Lindon  himself  did  not.  Few  do.  When  exhausted  be  took 
a  little  whisky.  When  he  entertained,  he  sipped  the  wine 
that  an  impecunious  gentleman  was  paid  to  purchase  for 
him,  regardless  of  cost.  So,  although  there  were  those  who 
turned  up  their  noses  at  Joseph  Lindon  while  they  swal- 
lowed him,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  any  reluctance  in 
going  through  the  same  motions  with  his  wine. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


25 


The  fact  that  he  was  able  to,  and  did  entertain  to  a 
large  extent  was  of  itself  sufficient  in  certain  quarters  to 
provoke  a  smile  suggesting  that  the  society  in  that  city  did 
not  entertain.  Some  members  had  been  among  the  exclu- 
sives  for  a  comparatively  short  time,  and  the  early  occu- 
pation of  their  parents  was  still  painfully  within  the  mem- 
ory of  the  oldest  inhabitant.  A  good  many  based  their 
right  on  the  fact  that  they  came  "  straight  from  England  " 
— without  further  recommendation ;  while  others  pawed 
the  air  like  the  heraldic  lion  because  they  had,  or  used  to 
have,  a  second  cousin  with  a  title  in  England. 

But  these  good  people  were  partly  correct  when  they 
hinted  that  some  old  families  did  not  entertain  much. 
Either  there  had  been  some  scalawag  in  the  family  who 
had  wasted  its  substance,  or  else  the  respected  family  had 
had  a  faculty  for  mortgaging  and  indorsing  notes  for 
friends  in  those  good  old  times  which  happily  are  not 
likely  to  return. 

The  consequence  was  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
satisfaction  on  both  sides.  Joseph  Lindon  could  pat  his 
breeches  pocket,  figuratively,  and,  not  without  reason,  con- 
sider he  had  the  best  of  it.  Many  a  huge  mortgage  at  ruin- 
ous interest  made  by  the  first  families,  who  never  lived 
within  their  means,  had  found  its  way  to  Lindon's  office, 
and  many  an  acre,  subsequently  worth  thousands  of  dol- 
lars, had  been  acquired  by  him  in  satisfaction  of  the  note 
he  held  against  the  family  scalawag.  During  all  the  times 
that  these  people  had  been  "  keeping  up  the  name,"  as 
they  called  it,  Lindon  had  been  salting  down  the  hard 
cash,  and  if  some  of  his  transactions  were  of  the  "  shady  " 
sort,  he  had,  in  dealing  with  some  of  the  patrician  families, 
some  pretty  shady  customers  to  look  after. 

But  these  transactions  were  in  the  old  times,  when 
Lindon  was  rolling  up  his  scores  of  thousands.  All  he  had 
to  do  now  was  to  attend  the  board  meetings  of  companies  of 


26 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


.which  he  was  president,  and  to  arrange  his  large  financial 
ventures  in  cold  blood  over  his  chop  at  the  club  with  those 
who  waited  for  his  consent  with  eager  ears.  If  there  were 
few  transactions  in  business  circles  that  he  was  not  con- 
versant with,  there  were  still  fewer  affairs  in  his  own  do- 
mestic circle  that  he  knew  anything  about.  It  was  his 
wife  that  had  brought  him  into  his  social  position,  such  as 
it  was  ;  that  is,  his  wife's  wishes  and  his  money. 

Mrs.  Lindon  had  been  a  pretty  woman  in  her  day, 
which,  of  course,  had  lost  its  first  freshness,  and  she  was 
approaching  that  period  when  the  retrospect  of  a  well- 
spent  life  is  expected  to  be  gratifying.  Her  married  life 
with  Mr.  Lindon  had  not  been  the  gradual  conquest  of 
that  complete  union  which  makes  later  years  a  climax  and 
old  age  the  harvest  of  sweet  memories  in  common,  as  mar- 
riage has  been  defined  for  us.  On  the  contrary,  their  mar- 
ried life  had  been  a  gradual  acquisition  of  that  disunion 
which  law  and  public  opinion  prevent  from  becoming  com- 
plete. The  two  had  now  established  the  semblance  of  a 
union — the  system  in  which  the  various  pretenses  of  deep 
regard  become  so  well  defined  by  long  years  of  mutual 
make-believe,  as  to  often  encourage  the  married  to  hope 
that  it  will  be  publicly  supposed  to  be  the  glad  culmina- 
tion of  their  courtsiiip  dreams. 

Mrs.  Lindon  said  of  herself  that  she  had  been  of  a 
Lower  Canadian  family,  with  some  French  name,  prior  to 
her  marriage,  and  her  story  seemed  to  suggest,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  further  particulars,  that  Mr.  Lindon  had  married 
her  more  for  her  family  than  her  good  looks.  The  "  looks  " 
were  pretty  nearly  gone,  but  the  "  family  "  was  still  within 
the  reach  of  a  sufficiently  fertile  imagination,  and  so  often 
had  the  suggestion  been  made  that  of  late  years  the  idea 
had  assumed  a  definiteness  in  her  mind  which  materially 
assisted  her  in  holding  her  own  in  the  society  in  which  she 
now  floated.     A  natural  untidiness  in  the  way  she  put  on 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


27 


her  expensive  garments,  which  in  a  poorer  woman  would 
have  been  called  slatternly,  and  the  dark,  French  pretti- 
ness  which  she  still  showed  traces  of  (and  which  was  rather 
of  the  nurse-girl  type)  combined  to  suggest  that  in  reality 
she  was  the  offspring  of  Irish  and  French  emigrants,  *'  and 
steerage  at  that " — some  of  the  first  families  said — "  decid- 
edly steerage.'* 

Mrs.  Lindon  was  supremely  her  own  mistress.  This 
was  not,  perhaps,  an  ultimate  benefit  to  her,  but,  as  she  had 
nothing  on  earth  to  trouble  about,  long  years  of  idleness 
and  indulgence  in  every  whim  had  led  her  to  conjure  up  a 
grievance,  which  she  nursed  in  her  bosom,  and  on  account 
of  it  she  excused  herself  for  all  shortcomings.  This 
was  that  she  was  left  so  much  without  the  society  of  Mr. 
Lindon.  Often,  in  the  pauses  between  the  excitements  she 
created  for  herself,  tears  of  self-pity  would  arise  at  the 
thought  of  her  abandoned  condition.  The  truth  was  that 
she  did  not  care  anymore  for  Lindon  than  he  did  for  her  ; 
but  from  the  fact  that  she  really  did  desire  to  have  a  hus- 
band who  would  see  better  the  advantages  of  shining  in 
society,  the  poor  lady  contrived  to  convince  herself  that  he 
had  been  greatly  wanting  in  his  duties  to  her  as  a  husband, 
that  the  affection  was  all  on  her  side,  and  that  that  affec- 
tion was  from  year  to  year  quietly  repulsed.  Their  domes- 
tic bearing  toward  each  other  was  now  that  of  a  quiet  neu- 
trality. They  always  addressed  each  other  in  public  as 
"  my  dear,"  and,  if  either  of  them  had  died,  no  doubt  the 
bereaved  one  would  have  mourned  in  the  usual  way,  on 
the  principle  of  "  Nil  de  mortuis  nisi  bunkum^ 

It  had  not  occurred  to  Mrs.  Lindon  that,  if  more  time 
had  been  spent  with  her  daughter  in  fulfilling  a  mother's 
duties  toward  a  young  girl,  there  would  have  been  less 
need  for  extraneous  assistance  to  aid  her  in  her  passage 
through  the  world.  Nina  was  fond  of  her  mother,  and  it 
was  strange  that  the  two  did  not  see  more  of  each  other. 


Im 


ill 


28 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


Nina  could  be  a  credit  to  her  in  any  social  gathering,  and 
this  made  it  all  the  more  strange.  But  Mrs.  Lindon  was 
forever  gadding  about  to  different  institutions,  Bible-read- 
ings, and  other  little  excitements  of  her  own  (for  which 
Nina  had  no  marked  liking),  and  she  seemed  rather  more 
easy  in  her  mind  when  Nina  was  not  with  her.  Perhaps 
Mr.  Lindon  was  not  solely  at  fault  concerning  the  cool- 
ness pervading  the  domestic  atmosphere. 

The  charitable  institutions  had  been  the  salvation  of 
Mrs.  Lindon — that  is,  in  a  mundane  sense.  When  Joseph 
Lindon,  with  characteristic  method,  came  home  one  day 
and  said,  **  My  dear,  I  have  bought  the  Ramsay  mansion, 
and  now  I  am  going  to  spend  my  money,"  Mrs.  Lindon 
enjoyed  a  pleasure  exceeding  anything  she  had  known. 
That  was  a  happy  day  for  her !  The  dream  of  her  life 
was  to  be  consummated !  She  immediately  left  the  small 
church  which  she  had  attended  for  years  and  changed  her 
creed  slightly  to  take  a  good  pew  in  a  certain  fashionable 
church.  After  this  it  was  merely  a  question  of  time  and 
money,  both  of  which  were  available  to  any  extent.  She 
showed  great  interest  in  charities.  She  contributed  hum- 
bly but  lavishly.  The  ladies  of  good  position  who  go 
around  with  subscription-books  smiled  in  their  hearts  at 
seeing  the  old  game  going  on.  They  smiled  and  bled  her 
profusely.  They  discussed  Mrs.  Lindon  among  themselves 
— with  care,  of  course,  because  they  did  not  wish  to  appear 
to  have  known  her  before.  But  as  time  wore  on  they 
thought  she  could  be  bled  to  a  much  greater  extent  if  she 
were  induced  to  become  "  a  worker  in  the  flock,"  which 
the  good  lady  was  quite  willing  to  do.  On  being  ap- 
proached by  some  of  the  leading  spirits,  she  went  first  to  a 
weekly  Bible-class,  Avhich  she  had  previously  been  afraid 
to  attend  because  the  audience  was  so  select,  and  after 
this  she  showed  such  an  interest  in  various  charities 
that  she  was  soon  placed  upon  committees.     By  ladies 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


29 


with  heads  for  real  management  on  their  shoulders  she 
was  led  to  believe  that  they  really  could  not  do  without 
her  mental  assistance,  so  that  at  first  when  she  was 
gravely  consulted  on  a  financial  question  and  asked  for 
her  advice  she  generally  eased  the  tension  on  her  mind  by 
writing  a  substantial  check.  This  led  her  to  believe  that 
she  had  something  of  the  financier  about  her,  and  she 
even  told  her  husband  that  she  was  beginning  to  quite 
understand  all  about  money  matters,  at  which  Joseph 
smiled  an  ineffable  smile. 

She  could  have  been  used  mere  advantageously  if  she 
had  been  kept  ou^  of  the  desired  circle  for  a  couple  of 
years  longer,  because  she  was  ready  to  pay  any  price  for 
her  admission.  The  good  ladies  made  a  slight  mistake  in 
being  too  hasty  to  control  the  bottomless  purse,  because, 
after  she  had  got  fairly  installed,  the  purse  was  worked 
in  several  other  ways,  and  the  ecclesiastical  drain  on  it 
became  reduced  to  an  ordinary  amount.  She  gave 
a  fair  sum  to  each  of  the  charities  and  accepted  the 
attentions  of  those  whom  the  odor  of  money  attracted, 
without  troubling  herself  in  the  slightest  degree  about  the 
periodical  financial  difficulties  of  the  institutions. 

Yet  she  never  altogether  relaxed  her  efforts  in  **  work- 
ing for  the  Lord,"  as  she  called  it,  in  such  good  company. 
She  acquired  a  taste  for  it  that  never  left  her.  She  would 
take  a  couple  of  the  "  poor  but  honest "  ladies  of  good  family 
with  her,  in  her  sumptuous  barouche,  to  the  **  Incurables  " 
and  other  places.  After  a  capital  luncheon  at  her  house 
they  would  visit  the  "  Home,"  and  sometimes  kiss  the  poor 
women  there  ;  and  if  the  strengthening  sympathy  and  re- 
ligious value  of  Mrs.  Lindon's  kiss  did  not  bind  them  to 
a  life  of  virtue  ever  afterward  they  must  indeed  have  been 
lost — in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

Nina  was  not  born  for  some  time  after  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Lindon  had  been  married.     Her  mother  had  kept 


30 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


her,  when  a  child,  very  much  in  the  dark  as  to  their  an- 
tecedents, and,  as  the  social  position  of  the  family  had 
been  well  established  by  Mrs.  Lindon  when  Nina  was  very 
young,  the  girl  always  had  grown  up  with  the  idea  that  she 
was  a  lady ;  and  in  spite  of  a  few  wants  in  her  father  and 
some  doubts  as  to  her  mother's  origin,  she  came  out  into 
society  with  a  fixed  idea  that  she  was  "  quite  good  enough 
for  the  colonies,"  as  she  laughingly  told  her  friends. 

No  pains  or  expense  had  been  spared  in  her  educa- 
tion. She  had  first  gone  to  the  best  Toronto  school,  and 
had  **  finished  "  at  a  boarding-school  in  England.  Jack 
Cresswell  knew  her  when  she  was  at  school,  where  she 
shared  his  heart  with  several  others.  When  she  emerged 
from  the  educational  chrysalis  and  floated  for  the  first  time 
down  a  society  ball-room  Jack  was  after  the  butterfly  hat- 
in-hand,  as  it  were,  and  never  as  yet  had  he  given  up  the 
chase.  Mr.  Lindon  knew  nothing  of  domestic  affairs,  but 
he  had  found  Jack  so  frequently  at  his  house  that  he  had 
begun  to  see  that  his  ambitious  plans  for  his  daughter 
were  perhaps  in  danger  of  being  frustrated,  and  so,  having 
at  that  time  to  send  a  man  to  England  to  float  the  shares 
of  some  company  on  the  London  market,  he  decided  to  go 
himself,  and  one  day,  when  Jack  was  dining  there,  he 
rather  paralyzed  all,  especially  Jack,  by  instructing  his 
wife  and  daughter  to  be  ready  in  a  week  for  the  jour- 
ney. 

The  parting  on  Jack's  part  would  have  been  tender  if 
Nina  had  not  been  in  such  exasperatingly  high  spirits — 
hilarity  he  found  it  quite  impossible  to  participate  in  or 
appreciate.  He  made  her  excuses  to  himself,  like  the  de- 
cent soul  he  was,  although  he  really  suffered  a  good  deal. 
He  was  an  ardent  youth,  and  for  the  week  prior  to  de- 
parture he  received  very  little  of  the  sympathy  he  hungered 
for,  but  he  tried  to  speak  cheerfully  as  he  held  her  hand 
in  saying  good-by. 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD 


31 


"  Well,  now,  you  won't  forget  your  promise,  old  lady, 
will  you  ?  "  he  said,  while  he  tried  to  photograph  her  in 
his  mind  as  she  stood  bewitchingly  before  him. 

"  What !  and  throw  over  the  French  count  that  pro- 
posed to  me  in  London  ?  "  she  said  archly,  ^ack  mut- 
tered something  under  his  breath  that  sounded  ke  hos- 
tility toward  the  French  count. 

She  heard  him,  however,  and  said  :  "  Certainly.  So 
we  will.  It  will  kill  him,  but  you  will  rejoice.  And  I 
will  come  back  and  marry  Jack.  There  !  isn't  it  nice  of 
me  to  say  that  ?     Now,  kiss  me  and  say  good-by  !  " 

She  withdrew,  and  held  the  porch  door  so  that  only 
her  face  appeared,  which  Jack  lightly  touched  with  his 
lips,  and  then  he  went  away  speechless.  As  he  went  he 
heard  her  singing: 

"  And  I'll  come  back  to  my  own  true  love, 
Ten  thousand  miles  away." 

This  sentiment,  from  one  of  his  yachting  songs, 
smoothed  the  ragged  edge  of  his  feelings.  He  loved  in 
an  old-fashioned  way,  and  in  his  ideas  as  to  carrying  out 
the  due  formalities  of  a  lover's  leave-taking  he  was  con- 
servative even  to  red-tapeism,  and  disappointment,  tender- 
ness, anger,  and  hopelessness  surged  through  his  brain  as 
they  only  can  in  that  of  a  young  man. 

There  was  further  tragedy  in  that  Jack,  unable  to  sleep 
at  night  and  despondent  in  the  morning,  must  needs  go 
down  to  the  boat  to  see  her  "just  once  more  "  before  she 
left.  The  gangways  had  been  hauled  in  and  the  paddle- 
wheels  were  beginning  to  move.  Nina  was  standing  inside 
the  lower-deck  bulwarks  and  leaned  across  the  water  to 
shake  hands,  but  the  distance  was  too  great.  She  was  in 
aggressively  high  spirits,  and  said  to  him,  as  he  moved 
along  the  end  of  the  wharf,  keeping  pace  with  the  boat : 

"  Don't  you  remember  what  your  pet  authoress  says  ?  " 


"mH 


32 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"  No,"  said  Jack,  hoping  that  she  would  say  something 
nice  to  him. 

"  She  says  that  a  first  farewell  may  have  pathos  in  it, 
but  to  come  back  for  a  second  lends  an  opening  to 
comedy." 

Her  rippling  laugh  smote  Jack  cruelly.  Then  she 
tried  to  soften  this  by  smiling  and  waving  her  hand  to  him 
as  the  boat  swept  away.  Jack  raised  his  hat  stiffly  in  re- 
turn, and  wandered  back  to  the  bank  with  a  head  that  felt 
as  if  it  would  split. 

And  this  was  their  parting  two  years  ago. 


• 


CHAPTER   V. 

Fair  goes  the  dancing  when  the  sitar's  tuned ; 
Tune  us  the  sitar  neither  low  nor  high, 
And  we  will  dance  away  the  hearts  of  men. 

The  string  o'erstretched  breaks,  and  music  flies ; 
The  string  o'erslack  is  dumb,  and  music  dies ; 
Tune  us  the  sitar  neither  low  nor  high. 

Nautch  girls'  song, —  The  Light  0/  Asia,    ARNOLD. 

Mr.  Lindon  did  not  remain  long  with  his  family  on 
the  trip  which  Mrs.  Lindon  thought  was  only  to  last  a 
month  or  two.  On  arriving  in  England,  he  transacted  his 
business  in  a  short  time,  and  then  proposed  a  run  on  the 
Continent.  By  degrees  he  took  the  family  on  to  Rome, 
where  they  made  friends  at  the  hotel  and  seemed  con- 
tented to  remain  fo:  a  while.  He  then  pretended  to 
have  received  a  cablegram,  and  came  home  by  the  quick- 
est route,  having  got  them  fairly  installed  in  a  foreign 
country  without  letting  them  suspect  any  coercion  in  the 
matter.  Afterward  he  wrote  to  say  he  wished  Nina  to 
see  something  of  England  and  Scotland,  and,  the  proposal 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


33 


y  something 

)athos  in  it, 
opening   to 

Then  she 
land  to  him 
stiffly  in  re- 
;ad  that  felt 


s; 

z.    Arnold. 

family  on 
y  to  last  a 
nsacted  his 
run  on  the 
to  Rome, 
emed  con- 
etended  to 
the  quick- 
a  foreign 
:ion  in  the 
d  Nina  to 
e  proposal 


being  agreeable  to  Mrs.  I.indon,  they  accepted  invitations 
from  people  they  had  met  to  pay  visits  in  different  places, 
80  that  together  with  an  art  course  in  Paris  and  a  musical 
course  at  Leipsic,  they  wandered  about  until  nearly  two 
years  had  elapsed,  when  they  suddenly  suspected  that 
Mr.  Lindon  preferred  that  they  should  be  away,  upon 
which  they  returned  at  once. 

Whether  Nina  came  back  "  in  love  "  with  Jack  was  a 
question  as  to  which  he  made  many  endeavors  to  satisfy 
himself.  The  ability  to  live  up  to  the  verb  "  to  love  "  in 
all  its  moods  and  tenses  is  so  varied,  and  the  outward  re- 
sults of  the  inward  grace  are  often  so  ephemeral  that  it 
would  be  hazardous  to  say  what  particular  person  is  suffi- 
ciently unselfish  to  experience  more  than  a  gleam  of  a 
phase  that  calls  for  all  the  most  beautiful  possibilities.  It 
is  not  merely  a  jingle  of  words  to  say  that  one  who  is  not 
minded  to  be  single  should  be  single-minded. 

Let  us  pass  over  the  difficult  point  and  take  the  young 
lady's  statement  for  what  it  was  worth.  She  said,  of  her- 
self, that  she  was  in  love  with  Jack.  He  had  extracted 
this  from  her  with  much  insistence,  while  she  aggravatingly 
asserted  at  the  same  time,  that  she  only  made  the  admis- 
sion "  for  a  quiet  life,"  leaving  Jack  far  from  any  certainty 
of  possession  that  could  lead  to  either  indifference  or  com- 
fort. 

Two  or  three  proposals  of  marriage  which  she  had  while 
away  had  evidently  not  captured  her,  even  if  they  had 
turned  her  head  a  little.  She  had  seen  no  person  she  liked 
better  than  Jack  or  else  she  would  not,  perhaps,  have 
come  back  in  the  way  she  did.  The  proposals,  however,  if 
they  ever  had  been  made,  served  to  turn  Jack's  daily  exist- 
ence into  alternations  of  hot  and  cold  shower-baths.  One 
day  she  would  talk  about  a  Russian  she  had  met  in  Paris. 
Then  she  solemnly  gave  the  history  of  her  walks  and  talks 
with  a  naval  officer  in  Rome,  till  Jack's  brow  was  damp 
3 


34 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


II    I 


m 


I  III 


>      .  >i 


I) 


I' 


with  a  cold  exudation.  But  when  it  came  to  the  deh'ghtful 
appearance  of  Colonel  Vere,  and  the  devotion  he  showed 
when  he  took  her  hand  and  asked  her  to  share  his  estates, 
Jack  said,  with  his  teeth  clinched,  that  he  had  had  enough 
of  the  whole  business — and  departed.  He  then  spent  two 
days  of  very  complete  misery,  barometer  at  28°,  until  she 
met  him  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  said  she  was 
sorry  ;  would  he  stop  being  a  cross  boy  ?  that  she  had 
only  been  teasing  him,  and  all  the  rest  of  it ;  while  she 
looked  out  of  her  soft  dark  eyes  in  a  way  that  left  no  doubt 
in  Jack's  mind  that  he  had  behaved  like  a  brute. 

In  this  way  the  first  week  of  her  return  had  been  con- 
sumed, and  as  yet  he  had  not  felt  that  he  could  afford 
to  divide  her  society  with  anybody.  What  with  the  rich 
Russian,  the  naval  officer,  and  Colonel  Vere — what  with 
getting  into  agonies  and  getting  out  of  them — it  took  him 
pretty  nearly  all  his  time  to  try  to  straighten  matters  out. 
So  Geoffrey's  introduction  had  not  been  mentioned  further 
by  him,  except  to  Nina,  who  was  becoming  curious  to  see 
Jack's  particular  friend  and  Admirable  Crichton.  The 
opportunity  for  this  meeting  seemed  about  to  offer  itself  in 
the  shape  of  an  entertainment  where  all  those  who  re- 
mained in  Toronto  during  the  summer  would  collect — one 
of  those  warm  gatherings  where  the  oft-tried  case  of 
pleasure  vs.  perspiration  results  so  frequently  in  an  un- 
doubted verdict  for  the  defendant. 

The  Dusenalls  were  among  those  wise  enough  to  know 
that  in  summer  they  could  be  cooler  in  Toronto,  at  their 
own  residence,  with  every  comfort  about  them,  than  they 
could  possibly  be  while  stewing  in  an  American  hotel  or 
broiling  on  the  sands  of  an  American  seaport.  They  ob- 
jected to  spending  large  sums  yearly  in  beautifying  their 
grounds,  merely  to  leave  the  shady  walks,  cool  arbors,  and 
tinkling  fountains  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  gardeners' 
wives  and  children.     In  the  thickness  of  their  mansion 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


35 


walls  there  was  a  power  to  resist  the  sun  which  no  thin 
wooden  hotel  can  possess ;  therefore,  in  spite  of  a  fashion 
which  is  somewhat  dying  out,  they  remained  in  Toronto 
during  the  hot  months,  and  amused  themselves  a  good 
deal  on  young  Dusenall's  yacht. 

Their  residence  was  well  adapted  for  such  a  party  as 
they  were  now  giving,  and  the  guests  were  made  to  un- 
derstand that  in  the  afternoon  there  would  be  a  sort  of 
garden-party,  with  lawn-tennis  chiefly  in  view,  and  at 
dark  a  substantial  high  tea — to  wind  up  with  dancing  as 
long  as  human  nature  could  stand  the  strain  ;  and  if  any 
had  got  too  old  or  too  corpulent  or  too  dignified  to  play 
tennis,  they  could  hardly  get  too  much  so  to  look  on  ;  or, 
if  this  lacked  interest,  they  could  walk  about  the  lawns 
and  gardens  and  converse,  or,  if  possible,  make  love;  or 
listen  to  a  good  military  band  while  enjoying  a  harmless 
cigarette  ;  and  if  they  liked  none  of  these  things  they 
could  never  have  been  known  by  the  people  of  whom  this 
account  is  given,  and  thus,  perhaps,  might  as  well  never 
have  been  born. 

The  men,  of  course,  played  in  their  flannels,  which  a 
few  of  them  afterward  changed  in  Charley  Dusenall's 
rooms  when  there  was  a  suspension  of  hostilities  for  toilets. 
Most  of  them  went  home  to  dinner  and  appeared  later  on 
for  the  dancing.  People  came  in  afternoon-dress  and  re- 
mained for  tea  and  through  the  evening  in  that  attire, 
or  else  they  dropped  in  at  the  usual  time  in  evening-dress. 
It  did  not  matter.  It  was  all  a  sort  of  "  go-as-you-please." 
Some  girls  danced  in  their  light  tennis  dresses,  and  others 
had  their  maids  come  with  ball  dresses.  Of  course  the 
majority  came  late — especially  the  chaperons,  the  heavy 
fathers,  starchy  bank-managers,  and  such  learned  counsel 
as  scorned  not  to  view  the  giddy  whirl  nor  to  sample  the 
cellars  of  the  Dusenalls. 

Mrs.  Lindon  arrived   with   her  daughter  late  in  the 


11';-: 
r  ■'.!. 

>l  ■  |;, 

ill'''' 


(' 


36 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


I||i|{ 


;  ! 


evening,  when  everything  was  whirling.  Jack  had  his 
name  down  for  a  couple  of  dances,  and  a  few  more  were 
bestowed  upon  eager  aspirants,  and  then  she  had  no  more 
to  give  away — so  sorry  ! — card  quite  filled  !  She  told 
dancing  fibs  in  a  charming  manner  that  seemed  to  take 
away  half  the  pang  of  disappointment.  This  was  a  field- 
day,  and  the  discarded  ones  could  receive  more  notice  on 
some  other,  smaller  occasion. 

To  see  Jack  and  Nina  dancing  together  was  to  see  two 
people  completely  satisfied  with  themselves.  As  a  dancer, 
Jack  "  fancied  himself."  He  had  an  eye  for  calculating 
distances  and  he  had  the  courage  of  his  opinions  when 
he  proposed  to  dance  through  a  small  space.  As  for 
Nina,  she  was  the  incarnation  of  a  waltz.  Her  small  feet 
seemed  as  quick  as  the  pat  of  a  cat's  paw.  In  watching 
her  the  idea  of  exertion  never  seemed  to  present  itself. 
There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  rhythmic  pulsations  of  the  feet 
and  in  yielding  to  the  sensuous  strains  of  the  music 
(which  alone  seems  to  be  the  propelling  power)  that  is 
more  distinctly  animal  than  a  good  many  of  our  other 
pleasures  ;  and  Nina  was  born  to  dance. 

At  the  end  of  Jack's  first  dance  with  her,  Geoffrey 
came  idling  through  the  conservatory,  and  entered  the 
ball-room  close  beside  the  place  where  Mrs.  Lindon  was 
seated  with  several  other  mothers.  As  the  last  bars  of  the 
waltz  were  expiring,  Jack  brought  up  at  what  he  called 
**  the  moorings  "  with  all  the  easy  swing  and  grace  of  a 
dancer  who  loves  his  dance.  The  act  of  stopping  seemed 
to  divide  the  unity  in  trinity  existing  between  his  partner, 
himsel'  and  the  music-  id  it  was  therefore  to  be  regretted, 
and  not  to  be  done  harshly,  but  lingeringly,  if  it  must  be 
done,  while  Nina,  as  he  released  her,  came  forward  toward 
her  mother  with  her  sleeveless  arms  still  partly  hanging  in 
the  air,  and  with  a  pretty  little  trip  and  slide  on  the  floor, 
as  if  she  could  not  get  the  "  time  "  out  of  her  feet.   Her  head 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


37 


was  slightly  thrown  back,  the  eyelids  were  drooped,  and 
the  lips  were  parted  with  a  smile  of  recognition  for  Mrs. 
Lindon,  while  her  attitude  showed  the  curves  of  her  small 
waist  to  advantage;  so  that  the  first  glimpse  of  Nina  that 
Geoffrey  received  was  not  an  unpleasant  one.  She  seemed 
to  be  moving  naturally  and  carelessly.  She  was  only  en- 
deavoring to  make  the  other  mothers  envious,  when  they 
compared  her  with  their  own  daughters.  Such  wiles  were 
part  of  her  nature.  When  feeling  particularly  vigorous, 
almost  every  attitude  of  some  people  is  a  challenge — males 
with  their  bravery,  females  with  their  graces — and,  what- 
ever changes  the  future  may  develop  in  the  predilections 
of  woman,  there  may  for  a  long  time  be  some  left  to 
acknowledge  that  for  them  a  kable  man  is  one  who  is 
able  to  assert,  in  a  refined  \v  sufficient  primitive  force 
to  make  submission  seem  like  conquest  rather  than 
choice. 

Jack  at  once  introduced  Geoffrey — his  face  beaming 
while  he  did  so.  He  was  so  proud  of  Nina.  He  was  so 
proud  of  Geoffrey.  Nina  was  blushing  at  having  Hamp- 
stead  witness  her  little  by-play  with  her  mother  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  dance — but  not  displeased  withal.  Jack 
thought  he  had  never  seen  her  look  so  beautiful.  And 
Geoffrey  was  such  a  strapper.  Jack  surveyed  thein  both 
with  unbounded  satisfaction.  He  slapped  Hampstead  on 
the  arm,  and  tightened  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  over  his  bi- 
ceps, patting  the  hard  limb,  and  saying  warmly  :  "  Here's 
where  the  secret  lies,  Nina !  This  is  what  takes  the 
prizes." 

"  So  you  are  Jonathan's  David,  are  you  ? "  said  Nina, 
smiling,  as  they  talked  together. 

"Well,  he  patronizes  me  a  good  deal,"  said  Geoffrey. 
"But  don't  you  think  he  looks  as  if  he  wished  to  find  his 
next  partner?  Suppose  we  give  him  a  chance  to  do  so  ; 
let  us  go  off  and  discuss  his  moral  character." 


I'lliTB 


ijiii 


I;  ■!  .■■ 

i'  !i  I 


m 

i  ii  i 


I! 


38 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


:^ 


He  went  away  with  Nina  on  his  arm,  leaving  Jack  quite 
radiant  to  see  them  both  so  friendly. 

When  they  arrived  in  the  long  conservatory  adjoining, 
Geoffrey  held  out  his  hand  for  her  card.  He  did  not  ask 
for  it,  except  perhaps  by  a  look.  Having  possessed  himself 
of  it,  he  found  five  successive  dances  vacant — evidently 
kept  for  some  one,  and  he  was  bold  enough  suddenly  to 
conclude  they  had  been  kept  for  him.  He  looked  at  the 
card  amused,  and  as  he  scratched  a  long  mark  across  all 
five,  he  drawled,  *'  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of — some 
dances?  "  And  then  he  mused  aloud  as  he  examined  the 
card,  **  Don't  seem  to  be  more  than  five.  Humph  !  Too 
bad !  But  perhaps  we  can  manage  a  few  more,  Miss  Lin- 
don?" 

Nina  was  accustomed  to  distribute  her  favors  with  a 
reluctant  hand  and  with  a  condescension  peculiarly  her 
own,  and  to  hear  suppliant  voices  around  her.  She  would 
be  capricious,  and  loved  her  power.  Even  Jack  did  not 
count  upon  continued  sunshine,  and  took  what  he  could 
get  with  some  thanksgivings.  She  was  a  presumptive  heir- 
ess, and  had  not  escaped  the  inflation  of  the  purse-proud. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  since  her  return  she  had  heard 
a  good  deal  about  the  various  perfections  of  his  friend, 
and  how  well  he  did  everything ;  and  from  what  her  girl 
friendb  said,  she  had  gleaned  that  Geoffrey  was  more  in 
demand  than  would  be  confessed.  He  was  not  very  de- 
sirable financially,  perhaps,  but  hugely  so  because  he  was 
sought  after.  This  much  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
have  made  her  amused  rather  than  annoyed  at  his  cool 
way  of  assuming  that  she  would  devote  herself  to  him  for 
an  unlimited  time,  but  there  was  something  more  about 
Geoffrey  than  mere  fashion  to  account  for  his  popularity, 
and  that  was  the  peculiar  influence  of  his  presence  upon 
those  with  whom  he  conversed. 

Thus  Nina,  if  she  came  to  the  Dusenalls  with  the  in- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


39 


tention  of  having  a  flirtation  with  Geoffrey,  which  the 
condition  of  her  card  and  her  acquiescence  to  his  demands 
confessed,  had  hit  upon  a  person  who  was  far  more  than 
her  match,  for  Hampstead's  acquaintanceships  were  not 
much  governed  by  rule.  As  long  as  a  girl  diverted  him 
and  wished  to  amuse  herself  he  had  no  particular  creed  as 
I  to  consequences,  but  merely  made  it  understood — ver- 
bally, at  least — that  there  was  nothing  lasting  about  the 
matter,  and  that  it  was  merely  for  "  the  temporary  mutual 
benefit  and  improvement  of  both  parties."  This  was  a 
remnant  of  a  code  of  justification  by  which  he  endeavored 
to  patch  up  his  self-respect :  but  nobody  knew  better 
than  he  that  such  phrases  mean  nothing  to  women  who 
are  falling  in  love  and  intend  to  continue  in  love. 

Underneath  the  careless  tones  with  which  he  spoke  to 
Nina  there  was  an  earnestness  and  concentration  that 
influenced  her.  As  he  gravely  handed  back  her  card  and 
caught  and  held  her  glance  with  an  intensity  in  his  gray 
eyes  and  will-power  in  his  face,  she  felt,  for  :he  first  time 
with  any  man,  that  she  was  not  completely  at  her  ease. 
When  obeying  the  warning  impulses  that  formerly  ful- 
filled the  offices  of  thought  women  do  not  often  make 
a  mistake.  By  these  intuitions,  sufficient  at  first  for  self- 
protection,  she  knew  there  was  willfulness  and  mastery  in 
him,  and  that  if  she  would  be  true  to  Jack  she  should  re- 
turn to  him.  If  change  of  masters  be  hurtful  to  women, 
this  was  the  time  for  her  to  remember  about  the  woman 
who  hesitates.  Geoffrey  said,  "  Let  us  go  in  and  have  a 
dance,  Miss  Lindon,"  and  she  rose  with  a  nervous  smile 
and  glanced  across  to  the  place  where  her  mother  was  sit- 
ting. But  Mrs.  Lindon  had  never  been  a  tower  of  strength 
to  her,  or  she  might  have  gone  to  hei.  She  had  a  distinct 
feeling  that  this  new  acquaintance  was  more  powerful  in 
some  way  than  she  had  anticipated,  and  that  everything  was 
not  all  right  with  Jack's  interests,  and  she  was  at  one  of 


40 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


!iiP  I'l: 


those  moments  when  a  woman's  ability  to  decide  is  so  pe- 
culiarly the  essence  of  her  character,  circumstances,  and 
teaching  as  fairly  to  indicate  her  general  moral  level. 
Goethe  tells  us  "  to  first  understand  "  ;  but  if  we  can  not 
know  the  extent  of  Geoffrey's  influence,  or  how  far  her 
unknown  French  lineage  assisted  temptation,  we  would 
better  leave  judgment  alone.  Geoffrey  said  something  in 
her  ear  about  the  music  being  delicious.  She  listened  for 
a  moment  and  longed  for  a  dance  with  him.  Rubbish  ! 
only  a  dance,  after  all !  And  the  next  moment  she  was 
circling  through  the  ball-room  with  his  arm  around  her. 

The  band  that  played  at  the  Dusenalls'  was  one  that 
could  be  listened  to  with  pleasure.  It  was  composed  of 
bottle-nosed  Germans  who  worked  at  trades  during  the 
day  and  who  played  together  generally  for  their  own 
amusement.  In  all  they  played  they  brought  out  the 
soul  of  the  movement.  It  was  to  one  of  the  dreamiest  of 
waltzes  that  Nina  danced  with  Geoffrey — one  of  those 
pieces  where  from  softer  cadences  the  air  swells  into 
rapturous  triumph,  or  sinks  into  despair,  and  wooes  the 
dancer  into  the  most  uninteliectual  and  pleasant  frame  of 
mind — if  the  weather  be  not  too  warm. 

A  cool  night  breeze  was  passing  through  the  room, 
bringing  with  it  the  fragrance  of  the  dewey  flowers  outside, 
and  carrying  off  the  odor  of  those  nauseating  tube-roses 
(which  people  «//// wear),  and  replacing  it  with  a  perfume 
more  acceptable  to  gods  and  men — especially  men. 

If  Jack  "  fancied  himself  "  as  a  dancer,  Geoffrey  had  a 
better  right  to  do  so.  His  stature  aided  him  also,  and 
men  with  retreating  chins  were  rather  inclined  to  give  him 
the  road.  He  had  a  set  look  about  the  lower  part  of  his 
face  which  in  crowds  was  an  advantage  to  him.  It  sug- 
gested some  vis  major — perhaps  a  locomotive,  which  no 
one  cares  to  encounter. 

In  two  minutes  after  they  had  embarked  on  this  hazard- 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


41 


this  hazard- 


ous voyage  Nina  had  but  one  idea,  or  rather  she  was  con- 
jscious  of  a  pervading  sense  of  pleasure,  that  ran  away  with 
[her  calmer  self.  No  thought  of  anything  definite  was  with 
her,  only  a  vague  consciousness  of  turning  and  floating,  of 
[being  admired,  of  being  impelled  by  music  and  by  Geoffrey. 
As  the  dance  went  on  it  seerned  like  some  master  power  that 
fled  through  the  mazes  delightfully  and  resistlessly. 

When  the  music  ended,  for  they  had  never  stopped, 
she  sighed  with  sorrow.  It  had  been  too  short.  She  had 
yielded  herself  so  completely  to  its  fascination  that  she 
seemed  like  one  awakening  from  a  dream.  And  then  her 
conscience  smote  her  when  she  thought  of  Jack,  and  how 
in  some  way  she  had  enjoyed  herself  too  much,  and  did 
not  seem  to  be  quite  the  same  girl  that  she  had  been  half 
an  hour  before ;  but  these  thoughts  left  her  as  they  walked 
about  and  spoke  a  few  words  together.  While  circling  the 
long  room  she  noticed  Geoffrey  bowing  to  a  tall  young 
lady  whose  long  white  silk  train  swept  behind  her  majes- 
tically. There  was  a  respect  and  gravity  in  his  bow  which 
Nina,  with  her  quick  observation,  noticed. 

"Who  is  that  you  are  bowing  to  ?"  she  asked. 

"  That  is  Miss  Margaret  Mackintosh." 

"  Oh,  I  think  she  is  perfectly  lovely,"  said  Nina,  as  she 
looked  back  admiringly. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Geoffrey. 

Nina  turned  about  now  with  curiosity,  in  order  to  meet 
her  again.  Miss  Mackintosh  came  down  the  room  once 
more  with  a  partner  who  was  one  of  the  very  young  per- 
sons who  now  are  the  dancing  men  in  Toronto — called  the 
"  infants  "  by  a  lady  (still  unwon)  who  remembers  when 
there  were  marriageable  men  to  be  found  dancing  at  par- 
ties. This  detrimental  with  Miss  Mackintosh  was  having 
an  enjoyable  time  of  it.  What  with  the  beauty  of  his  part- 
ner, her  stately  figure,  gracious  manner,  and  the  rapidity 
with  which  she  talked  to  him,  the  little  man  did  not  quite 


42 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


know  where  he  was,  and  he  could  do  little  else  than  turn 
occasionally  and  murmur  complete  acquiescence  in  what 
she  was  saying,  while  he  sometimes  glanced  at  her  active 
face  for  a  moment.  In  doing  this,  though,  he  would  lose 
the  thread  of  her  discourse,  in  consequence  of  his  unfeigned 
admiration,  and,  as  he  was  straining  every  nerve  to  follow 
her  quick  ideas,  this  was  a  risky  thing  to  do.  Once  or 
twice,  seeing  him  turn  toward  her  so  attentively,  she 
turned  also  and  said,  "  Don't  you  think  so  ?  "  and  then 
the  little  man  would  endeavor  to  mentally  pull  himself  to- 
gether, and  with  some  appearance  of  deep  thought  would 
again  acquiesce  with  unction.  Certainly  he  thought  he  did 
think  so — every  time. 

The  close  scrutiny  of  Hampstead  and  Nina  did  not 
seem  to  affect  her  as  she  passed  them  with  her  face  un- 
lifted  and  earnest.  She  did  not  seem  to  have  any  side 
eyes  open  to  see  who  were  regarding  her.  When  the  hand- 
some dress  that  had  made  such  a  cavern  in  her  allowance 
money  was  trodden  on,  she  gathered  it  up  with  an  active 
movement — not  seeming  to  notice  the  unpleasantness,  nor 
for  a  moment  abating  the  earnestness  of  her  conversation. 
Her  idea  seemed  to  be  to  prevent  the  dress  from  inter- 
rupting her  rather  than  to  save  it.  One  could  see  that, 
once  on,  the  dress  was  perhaps  not  thought  of  again,  that 
it  was  not  the  main  part  of  her  pleasure,  but  was  lost  in 
her  endeavor  to  make  herself  agreeable,  and  in  this  way 
to  enjoy  herself. 

"I  am  sure  she  must  have  a  very  kind  heart,"  said 
Nina,  smiling. 

"Why.?  "asked  Geoffrey. 

"  Because  she  takes  so  much  trouble  over  such  a  poor 
specimen  of  a  man." 

"  Perhaps,  as  Douglas  Jerrold  said,  she  belongs  to  the 
Royal  Humane  Society,"  added  Geoffrey. 

As  Ninr  could  not  remember  being  acquainted  with 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


43 


any  Mr.  Jerrold,  the  remark  lost  some  of  its  weight.  The 
[true  inwardness  of  the  old  wit  that  comes  down  to  us  in 
[books  is  our  knowledge  of  the  reputation  of  the  joker. 

"  And  does  she  dance  well  ?  "  asked  Nina. 

"  No,"  said  Geoffrey,  as  he  still  looked  after  Miss 
Mackintosh  with  grave  and  thoughtful  eyes.  "I  don't 
think  she  has  in  her  enough  of  what  Goethe  calls  the 
*  daemonic  element '  of  our  nature  to  dance  well." 

"  Not  very  complimentary,  to  those  who  can  dance 
well,"  said  Nina,  archly  pointing  to  herself. 

Geoffrey  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  he  looked  at  his 
partner.  "Some  people  prefer  the  daemonic  element," 
said  he.  But  he  turned  again  from  the  rose  to  the  tall, 
white  lily,  who  was  once  more  approaching  them,  with 
something  of  a  melancholy  idea  in  his  mind  that  men  like 
him  ought  to  confine  themselves  entirely  to  the  rose,  and 
not  aspire  above  their  moral  level.  Margaret  Mackin- 
tosh was  the  one  person  he  revered.  She  was  the  symbol 
to  him  of  all  that  was  good  and  pure.  He  had  almost  for- 
gotten what  these  words  meant,  but  the  presence  of  Mar- 
garet always  re-interpreted  the  lost  language. 

"  And  do  you  admire  her  very  much  ? "  Nina  in- 
quired. 

"  I  admire  her  more  than  any  person  I  ever  saw." 

Sooner  or  later,  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  Geof- 
frey for  making  this  speech,  if  he  had  been  any  one  else. 
But  it  occurred  to  Nina  that  he  did  not  care  whether  she 
took  offense  or  not.  He  was  leaning  against  the  wall, 
apparently  oblivious,  for  the  moment,  to  any  of  her  ideas, 
charms,  or  graces,  but  looking,  withal,  exceedingly  hand- 
some, and  a  thought  came  to  her  which  should  not  come 
to  an  engaged  young  lady.  She  made  up  her  mind  that 
she  would  make  him  care  for  her  a  great  deal  and  then 
would  snub  him  and  marry  Jack. 

The  music  commenced  again. 


44 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


(( 


f    I 


m 


li>\ 


m 


'I    i  *'f!    r.  i'" 


:ii! 


!!Ht! 


Come  now,"  said  Nina,  gayly,  "  and  try  a  little  more 
of  the  daemonic  element." 

Geoffrey  turned  to  her  quickly,  and  his  face  flushed  as, 
to  quote  Shakespeare's  sonnet,  "his  bad  angel  fired  his 
good  one  out."  He  saw  in  her  face  her  intention  to  sub- 
jugate him,  and  knew  that  he  had  accldently  paved  the 
way  for  this  new  foolish  notion  of  hers  by  his  candid 
admiration  of  Miss  Mackintosh. 

"  Have  you  any  of  it  io  spare  ?  "  said  he,  as  his  arm 
encircled  her  for  the  dance. 

No  verbal  answer  was  given,  but  they  floated  away 
among  the  dancers.  Here  she  forgot  her  slight  feelings 
of  resentment  and  retained  only  the  desire  to  attract  him, 
without  further  wish  to  punish  him  afterward.  A  few 
turns  around  the  room,  and  she  was  in  as  much  of  a  whirl 
as  she  had  been  before.  They  danced  throughout  the 
music — almost  without  ceasing ;  and  when  it  ended  she 
unconsciously  leaned  upon  his  arm,  as  they  strolled  off 
together,  almost  as  if  she  were  tired.  The  thought  of 
how  she  was  acting  came  to  her,  only  it  came  now  as  an 
intruder.  A  usurper  reigned  with  sovereign  sway,  and 
Right  was  quickly  ousted  on  his  approach.  A  little  while 
ago,  and  the  power  to  decide,  for  Jack  or  against  him, 
was  more  evenly  balanced  ;  but  now,  how  different !  She 
was  wandering  on  with  no  other  impulse  than  the  indefi- 
nite wish  to  please  Geoffrey.  If  she  had  been  a  man, 
sophisms  and  excuses  might  have  occurred  to  her.  But 
it  was  not  her  habit  to  analyze  self  much,  and  even 
sophisms  require  some  thought. 

They  passed  through  the  conservatory  and  out  to  the 
broad  walk  of  pressed  gravel,  where  several  couples  were 
promenading.  Here  they  walked  up  and  down  once  or 
twice  in  the  cool  breeze  that  seemed  delicious  after  the 
invisible  dust  of  the  ball-room.  Nina  was  saying  nothing, 
but  leaning  on  his  arm,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  his  low, 


!  !h'  I: 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


4S 


I  little  more 


leep  tones  vibrated  through  her— as  a  sympathetic  note 
)metimes  makes  glass  ring— as  if  in  et*lio. 

Geoffrey  was  wondering  where  all  the  pride  and  self- 
issertion  had  gone  to  in  this  girl  who  now  seemed  so  trust- 
ful and  docile.  Even  her  answers  seemed  mechanical  i»nd 
^ague,  as  if  she  were  in  some  way  bewildered. 

Jack,  in  the  mean  time,  was  elbowing  his  way  through 
crowd,  trying  to  get  one  of  his  partners  something  to 
•at.     He  was  the  only  person  likely  to  notice  her  ab- 
fscnce,  and  this  he  did  not  do,  and,  as  Geoffrey  was  down 
[for  five  dances,  he  knew  no  others  would  be  looking  for 
Iher.    So  he  walked  on  past  the  end  of  the  terrace,  and, 
[descending  some  steps,  proceeded  farther  till  they  came  to 
[more  steps  leading  down  into  a  path  dark  with  overhanging 
trees.    Nina  hesitated,  and  said  she  was  always  afraid  to  go 
among  dark  trees,  but  Geoffrey  said,  *' Oh,  I'll  take  care  of 
you."    Then  she  thought  it  was  pleasant  to  have  an  ath- 
lete for  a  protector,  and  she  glanced  at  his  strong  face  and 
frame  with  confidence.     She  no  longer  went  with  him  as 
I  she  had  danced,  with  her  mind  in  a  whirl,  but  peacefully 
[and  calmly,  with  no  other  thought  than  to  be  with  him. 
He  took  her  hand  as  they  descended    the  stairs,  and, 
I  though  she  shrank  a  little  from  a  proceeding  new  to  her, 
jit  seemed  natural  enough,  and  gave  her  a  sense  of  protec- 
|tion  in  the  dark  paths.     It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  she 
I  could  have  done  without  it.    She  did  not  notice  their  silence. 
Geoffrey,  too,  thought  it  pleasant  enough  in  the  balmy  air 
I  without  conversation.     He  was  interested  by  her  beauty 
:and  her  sudden  partiality  for  him. 

At  length  he  stopped  in  one  of  the  distant  paths  as 
they  came  to  a  seat  between  the  trunks  of  two  large  trees 
Here  they  sat  down  at  opposite  sides  of  the  seat,  and  Geof- 
rey  leaned  back  against  the  tree  beside  him.  The  leaves 
on  the  overhanging  boughs  quivered  in  the  light  of  the 
moon,  and  the  delicate  perfume  in  the  air  spoke  of  flower- 


l\  ii 


;i 
ill, 


■|ill!i 


46 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


beds  near  by.  He  thought  it  extremely  pleasant  here,  and 
he  laid  his  head  back  against  the  tree  beside  him  to  listen 
to  the  tinkling  of  the  fountain  and  to  enjoy  the  scent-laden 
night  air.  An  idea  was  still  with  him  that  this  was  the  girl 
Jack  was  engaged  to,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  as  well  to 
keep  that  idea  before  him.  He  said  to  himself  that  he 
liked  Jack,  and  thought  he  was  very  considerate,  under 
the  circumstances,  for  his  friend  when  he  took  out  a 
little  silver  case  and  suggested  that  he  would  like  a 
cigarette. 

Nina  did  not  answer  him.  She  was  in  some  phase  of 
thought  in  which  cigarettes  had  no  place,  and  only  looked 
toward  him  slowly,  as  if  she  had  merely  heard  the  sound  of 
his  voice  and  not  the  words.  He  selected  from  the  case 
one  of  those  innocuous  tubes  of  rice-paper  and  prairie- 
grass,  and,  as  he  did  so,  the  absent  look  on  her  face 
seemed  peculiar.  With  a  fuse  in  one  hand  and  the  cigar- 
ette in  the  other,  he  paused  before  striking  a  light,  and 
they  looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment  as  he  thought  of 
stories  he  had  read  of  one  person's  influence  over  another. 
Like  many,  he  had  a  general  curiosity  about  strange  phases 
of  mankind,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  Nina  would  make 
an  interesting  subject  for  experiment.  Presently  he  said, 
in  resonant  tones,  deep  and  musical : 

'*  Do  you  like  to  be  here,  Nina  ?  " 

She  did  not  seem  to  notice  that  he  called  her  by  this 
familiar  name,  but  she  stood  up  and  remained  silently 
gazing  at  the  moon  through  a  break  in  the  foliage.  Her 
beauty  was  sublimated  by  the  white  light,  and,  as  Geoffrey 
took  a  step  towards  her,  he  forgot  about  his  cigarette, 
and,  taking  both  her  hands  in  his,  he  repeated  his  ques- 
tion two  or  three  times  before  she  answered.  Then  she 
turned  impetuously. 

"Oh,  why  do  you  make  me  do  everything  that  is 
wrong?     I  should  not  be  here.      I  should  never  have 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


47 


ipoken  to  you.     I  was  afraid  of  you  from  the  first  mo- 
lent  I  saw  you." 
Geoffrey  led  her  by  one  hand  back  to  the  seat. 
"  Now  answer  me.     Do  you  like  to  be  here — with  me, 

iina? 

She  looked  at  the  moon  and  at  the  ground  and  all 
ibout,  but  remained  mute  and  apparently  pondering. 

He  had  forgotten  Jack  now  as  well  as  the  cigarette, 
ind  was  rapidly  losing  the  remembrance  that  this  was  to 
)e  merely  a  scientific  experiment. 

•'Your  silence  makes  me  all  the  more  impatient.  I 
rill  know  now.     Do  you  like  to  be  here,  Nina  ? " 

A  new  earnestness  in  his  tone  thrilled  her  and  made 
ler  tremble.  She  turned  with  a  sudden  impulse,  as  if  some- 
[thing  had  made  her  reckless : 

"  You  are  forcing  me  to  answer  you,"  she  said  vehe- 
[mently,  as  she  looked  at  him  with  a  constrained,  though 
laffectionate  expression  in  her  eyes.  "  But  I  will  tell  you 
[if  I  die  for  it.  Oh,  I  am  so  wicked  to  say  so,  but  I  must. 
[You  make  me.     Oh,  now  let  us  go  into  the  house.** 

Geoffrey's  generous  intention  to  act  rightly  by  Jack  de- 
Iparted  from  him,  and  for  a  moment  he  drew  her  toward 
[him,  saying  that  she  must  not  care  too  much  for  being 
[there,  "because,  you  know,"  he  said,  "this  is  only  a  little 
[flirtation,  and  is  quite  too  good  to  last." 

She  seemed  not  to  be  listening  to  him,  but  to  be  think- 
img ;  and  after  a  moment  she  said,  in  long  drawn  out,  sor- 
Irowful  accents : 

"  Oh— poor— Jack  ! " 

Something  in  the  slow,  melancholy  way  she  said  this, 
[and  the  thought  of  the  poor  place  that  Jack  certainly  held 
[at  the  present  time  in  her  affections,  struck  Geoffrey  as 
irresistibly  amusing,  and  he  laughed  aloud  in  an  unsympa- 
thetic way,  which  presented  him  to  her  in  a  new  light,  and 
[she  sprang  from  him  at  once.     Her  emotion  turned  to  an- 


48 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


U!l| 


M 


li 


iill 


lilt  ! 


ger  as  she  thought  that  the  laugh  had  been  derisive,  and 
her  blood  boiled  to  think  he  could  bring  her  here  to  laugh 
at  her  after  he  had  succeeded  in  winning  her  so  com- 
pletely. 

''  Come  into  the  house  at  once,"  she  cried.  "  I  can't 
go  in  alone  even  if  I  knew  the  way." 

Geoffrey  rose  and  begged  her  pardon,  assuring  her 
that  nothing  but  the  peculiarity  of  her  remark  had  caused 
his  laugh. 

"  I  will  not  stay  here  another  instant.  If  you  don't 
come  at  once  I'll  find  my  way  alone."  And  she  stamped 
her  foot  upon  the  ground. 

Hampstead  did  not  like  to  be  stamped  at,  and  his  face 
altered.  As  long  as  she  had  been  facile  and  pleasing,  a 
sense  of  duty  toward  her  and  Jack  had  made  him  consid- 
erate. It  had  seemed  to  him  while  sitting  there  that  this 
girl  was  his  ;  and  the  sense  of  possession  had  made  him 
kind,  but  now  that  she  seemed  to  vex  him  unnecessarily 
it  appeared  to  him  like  a  denial  of  his  influence.  The 
idea  of  the  experiment  suddenly  returned,  together  with 
a  sense  of  power  and  a  desire  to  compel  submission  which 
displaced  his  wish  to  be  considerate.  He  sat  down  on 
the  seat  again  facing  her  and  said  : 

"  I  want  you  to  come  here."  He  motioned  to  the  seat 
beside  him. 

"  I  won't  go  near  you.  I  hate  you  !  I'll  run  in  by 
myself." 

"  You  can  not  run  away — because  I  wish  you  to  come 
here." 

Hampstead  said  this  in  a  measured  way,  and  his  brow 
seemed  to  knot  into  cords  as  he  concentrated  his  will- 
power. His  face  bore  an  unpleasant  expression.  A 
quarter  of  a  minute  passed  and  she  stood  trembling  and 
fascinated  ;  and  before  another  half-minute  had  elapsed 
she  came  very  slowly  forward,  and  approached  him  with 


iii! 


il:in 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


49 


and  his  face 
I  pleasing,  a 
him  consid- 
ere  that  this 
1  made  him 
nnecessarily 
lence.  The 
)gether  with 
ission  which 
at  down  on 

i  to  the  seat 

1  run  in  by 

'^ou  to  come 

nd  his  brow 
ed  his  will- 
"ession.  A 
mbling  and 
lad  elapsed 
;d  him  with 


[the  expression  of  her  face  changed  into  one  of  enervation. 
iHer  eyes  were  dilated,  and  her  hands  hung  loosely  at  her 
sides.  Hampstead  saw,  with  some  consternation,  that  she 
had  become  like  something  else,  that  she  looked  very  like  a 
[mad-woman.  A  shock  went  through  him  as  he  looked  at 
kcr — not  knowing  how  the  matter  might  terminate.  He 
saw  that  she  was  mesmerized — an  automaton  moved  by 
his  will  only.  The  combined  flirtation  and  experiment 
[had  gone  further  than  he  had  intended,  and  the  result  was 
startling — especially  as  the  possibility  that  she  might  not 
recover  flashed  through  his  mind.  The  power  he  had  been 
wielding  (which  receives  much  cheap  ridicule  from  very 
hearned  men  who  would  fain  deny  what  they  can  not  ex- 
plain) suddenly  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  devilish  one,  and 
he  felt  that  he  had  done  something  wrong.  He  had  not 
intended  it.  An  idea  had  seized  him,  and  he  was  merely 
concentrating  a  power  which  he  unconsciously  used  almost 
every  hour  of  his  life.  He  considered  what  ought  to  be 
done  to  bring  her  back  to  a  normal  state.  Not  knowing 
anything  better  to  do,  he  walked  her  about  quickly,  speak- 
ing to  her,  a  little  sharply,  so  as  to  rouse  her. 

Then,  by  telling  her  to  wake  up,  and  by  asking  her 
simple  questions  and  requiring  an  answer,  he  succeeded 
in  bringing  her  back  to  something  like  her  usual  condi- 
tion. When  she  quite  knew  where  she  was,  she  thought 
she  must  have  fainted.  All  her  anger  was  gone,  and 
Geoffrey,  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  felt  sorry  for  her. 
It  had  been  an  interesting  episode — something  quite  new 
to  him  in  a  scientific  way — but  uncanny.  She  still  looked 
to  him  as  if  for  protection,  and  she  would  have  wept  had  he 
not  warned  her  how  she  would  appear  in  the  ball-room. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Hampstead,  you  have  treated  me  cruelly,"  she 
said.     Geoffrey  felt  that  this  was  true  enough. 

"  It  was  all  my  own  fault,  though.  I  do  not  blame  you. 
You  have  taught  me  a  great  deal  to-night.     I  seem  to 


t 


^ 


if>^ 


5^v 


$0 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


know,  somehow,  your  best  and  your  worst,  and  what  a 
man  can  be." 

She  leaned  upon  his  arm,  partly  from  weakness  and 
partly  because  she  felt  that,  good  or  bad,  he  was  master, 
and  that  she  liked  to  lean  upon  him.  The  movement 
touched  ^'  "Trey  with  compassion.  Having  nothing  to 
offer  in  i  urn,  it  distressed  him  to  notice  her  affection, 
which  he  knew  would  only  bring  her  unhappiness.  He 
tried,  therefore,  to  say  something  to  remove  the  impres- 
sions that  had  come  to  her. 

"  You  speak  of  good  and  bad  in  me,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  Now  I  think  you  are  so  much  in  my  confidence  that  I 
can  trust  you  in  what  I  am  going  to  say.  Don't  believe 
that  there  is  any  good  in  me.  I  tell  you  the  truth  now 
because  I  am  sorry  that  we  have  been  so  foolish  to-night. 
There  is  no  good  in  me.     It  is  all — the  other  thing." 

Nina  iddered — feeling  as  if  he  had  spoken  the 
truth  bu  t  it  was  already  too  late  for  her  to  listen 

to  it. 

He  took  her  back  into  the  house,  smiling  and  pleasant 
to  those  about  him,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred,  and  left 
her  with  Mrs.  Lindon. 

But  he  did  not  go  to  find  Margaret  Mackintosh  again. 
He  went  home  somewhat  excited,  and  smoked  four  or 
five  pipes  of  tobacco.  At  first  he  was  regretful,  for  he 
knew  he  had  been  doing  harm.  He  said  he  was  a  whim- 
sical fool.  But  after  a  couple  of  "  night-caps  "  he  began 
to  think  how  picturesque  she  had  looked  in  the  moon- 
light, and  he  afterward  dropped  off  into  as  dreamless  and 
undisturbed  a  sleep  as  the  most  virtuous  may  enjoy. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


St 


CHAPTER  VI. 

For  in  her  youth 
There  is  a  prone  and  speechless  dialect, 
Such  as  moves  men  ;  besides,  she  hath  prosperous  art, 
When  she  will  play  with  reason  and  discourse, 
And  well  she  can  persuade. 

Measure  for  Measure, 

If  anybody  had  stated  that  Geoffrey  Hampstead  was 
a  scoundrel,  he  would  have  had  grounds  for  his  opinion. 
As  he  did  not  attempt  to  palliate  his  own  misdeeds,  no- 
body will  do  so  for  him.  He  repudiated  the  idea  of  being 
led  into  wrong-doing,  or  driven  into  it  by  outside  circum- 
stances. Whatever  he  did,  he  liked  to  do  thoroughly,  and 
of  his  own  accord.  When  Nature  lavishes  her  gifts,  much 
ability  for  both  good  and  evil  is  usually  part  of  the  general 
endowment ;  and,  although,  perhaps,  if  we  knew  more,  all 
wrong-doing  would  receive  pity,  Geoffrey  possessed  a 
knowledge  of  results  that  tends  to  withdraw  compassion. 
But  he  had  overstepped  the  mark  when  he  had  told  Nina 
there  was  no  good  in  him.  Even  his  own  statement  re- 
minded him  how  few  things  there  are  about  which  a  sveep- 
ing  assertion  can  be  made  with  truth.  He  grew  impatient 
to  find  that  so  many  people  do  not  hold  opinions — that 
their  opinions  hold  them  ;  and  when  the  good  qualities  of 
a  person  under  discussion  met  with  no  consideration  he 
invariably  spoke  of  them.  He  had  a  good  word  to  say  for 
most  people,  and  no  lack  of  courage  to  say  it,  and  thus 
he  gave  impression  of  being  fair-minded,  which  made  men 
like  him.  He  had  the  compassion  for  the  faulty  which 
seems  to  appear  more  frequently  in  those  whose  lives  have 
been  by  no  means  without  reproach  than  among  the  strict- 
est followers  of  religions  which  claim  charity  as  their  own. 
He  thought  he  realized  that  consciousness  of  virtue  does 


J-, 
i- 

V 


i^ 


t*  .-I  ■ 


52 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


not  breed  so  much  true  compassion  as  consciousness  of 
sin  ;  and  a  young  clergyman  of  his*  acquaintance  found 
that  his  arguments  as  to  the  utility  of  sin  in  the  world  were 
very  shocking  and  difficult  to  answer. 

Thus  he  alternated  between  good  and  evil,  ve  7  much 
in  the  ordinary  way,  with  only  these  differences,  that  his 
good  seemed  more  disinterested  and  his  evil  more  pro- 
nounced than  with  most  people.  The  good  which  he  did 
was  done  without  the  bargaining  hope  of  future  compensa- 
tion, and  therefore  seemed  more  commendable.  On  the 
other  hand,  as  he  had  almost  forgotten  what  the  idea  of 
hell  was,  he  was  not  forced  to  brave  those  consequences 
which,  if  some  believe  as  they  profess,  must  render  their 
deliberate  wrong-doing  almost  heroic. 

What  should  a  man  be  called  who  had  in  him  these 
combinations  ?  Too  good  to  be  either  a  Quilp  or  a  Jonas 
Chuzzlewit,  and  much  too  bad  to  resemble  any  of  the  spot- 
less heroes  of  fiction.  It  will  settle  the  matter  with  those 
who  are  intolerant  of  distinctions  and  who  do  not  exam- 
ine into  mixtures  of  good  and  evil  outside  their  own  range 
of  life  to  have  it  understood  and  agreed  that  he  was  a  thor- 
oughpaced scoundrel.  This  will  place  us  all  on  a  com- 
fortable footing. 

Some  days  after  the  Dusenalls'  entertainment  Geoffrey 
was  strolling  along  King  Street  when  he  caught  sight 
of  Margaret  Mackintosh  coming  along  the  street  with 
quiet  eyes  observant.  She  walked  with  a  long,  elastic 
step,  which  seemed  to  speak  of  the  buoyancy  of  her 
heart. 

Geoffrey  walked  slower,  so  that  he  might  enjoy  the 
beauty  of  her  carriage,  and  the  charm  of  her  presence  as 
she  recognized  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  no  one  else 
could  convey  so  much  in  a  bow  as  she  could.  With  the 
graceful  inclination  of  the  head  came  the  pleasure  of  rec- 
ognition and  a  quick  intelligence  that  lighted  up  her  face. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


53 


y  much 
that  his 
ore  pro- 
h  he  did 
mpensa- 

On  the 
i  idea  of 
iquences 
der  their 

im  these 
r  a  Jonas 
the  spot- 
ith  those 
ot  exam- 
wn  range 
as  a  thor- 
1  a  corn- 
Geoffrey 
ht   sight 
reet  with 
elastic 
of  her 


g, 


snjoy  the 
esence  as 
I  one  else 
With  the 
re  of  rec- 
her  face. 


It  was  the  bow  of  a  princess,  as  we  imagine  it;  not,  it  will 
be  remembered,  as  Canada  has  experienced  it.  A  nobility 
and  graciousness  in  her  face  and  figure  made  men  feel  that 
she  had  a  right  to  condescend  to  them.  Innocence  was  not 
the  chief  characteristic  of  her  face.  However  attractive, 
i  innocence  is  a  poetic  name  for  ignorance — the  ignorance 
which  has  been  canonized  by  the  Romish  faith,  and  has 
thus  produced  all  the  insipid  virgins  and  heroines  of  the 
old  masters  and  writers.  She  did  not  show  that  pliable, 
ductile,  often  pretty  ignorance,  supposedly  sanctified  by 
the  name  of  innocence,  which  has  been  the  priestly  ideal 
of  beauty  for  at  least  nineteen  hundred  years — perhaps  al- 
ways. Hers  was  a  good  face,  with  a  sweet,  firm,  generous 
mouth,  possibly  passionate,  and  already  marked  by  sympa- 
thetic suffering  from  such  human  ills  as  she  understood. 
She  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  hide,  and  she  was  as  free 
and  open  as  the  day,  and  as  fresh  as  the  dawn  ;  and  a  large 
part  of  the  charm  she  had  for  all  men  lay  in  the  fact  that 
her  self-respect  was  so  assured  to  her  that  she  had  forgot- 
ten all  about  it.  She  had  none  of  that  primness  which 
is  the  outcome  of  an  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact  that 
knowledge  of  which  one  is  ashamed  is  continually  upper- 
most in  the  mind. 

As  soon  as  her  eye  rested  on  Geoffrey,  it  lighted  up 
with  that  marvelous  quickness  which  is  the  attribute  of 
rapidly-thinking  people.  In  a  flash  her  mind  apparently 
possessed  itself  of  all  she  had  ever  known  of  him.  Five 
or  six  little  things  to  say  came  tumbling  over  each  other 
to  her  lips,  as  she  held  out  her  long  gloved  hand  in  greet- 
ing. Even  Hampstead  felt  that  her  quick  approach,  ear- 
nest manner,  and  the  way  she  looked  straight  at  him  al- 
most disconcerted  him  ;  but  he  had  thought  to  wait  till  she 
spoke  to  him  to  see  what  she  would  say.  And  she  thought 
he  would  speak  first,  so  a  little  pause  occurred  for  an  in- 
stant that  would  have  been  slightly  awkward  had  they  not 


I 


}<!'■' 


m 


"^.i'-i  *M;'li 


!il 


III' 

ti!;!il' 


I' 


54 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


both  been  young  and  very  good-looking  and  much  inter- 
ested in  each  other. 

"  And  how  are  you  ?  "  said  she  heartily,  as  they  shook 
hands.  The  pause  might  have  continued  as  far  as  either  of 
them  cared.    They  were  self-possessed  persons — these  two. 

"  Oh,  I  am  pretty  well,  thank  you,"  said  Geoffrey,  with- 
out hastening  to  continue  the  conversation. 

"  And  particularly  well  you  look.  Never  saw  you  look 
better,"  said  Margaret. 

Geoffrey  made  a  deep  bow,  extending  the  palms  of  his 
hands  toward  her  and  downward  in  reverent  Oriental 
pantomime,  as  one  who  should  say  :  "  Your  slave  is  hum- 
bly glad  to  please,  and  dusts  your  path  with  his  miserable 
body." 

"  And  what  brought  you  into  town  to-day  ? "  said  he,  as 
he  turned  and  walked  with  her.  *'  Not  the  giddy  delight 
of  walking  on  King  Street,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  That  was  my  only  idea,  I  will  confess.  Home  was 
dull,  and  I  was  tired  of  reading.  Mother  was  busy  and 
father  was  away  somewhere ;  so  I  came  out  for  a  walk. 
Yes,  King  Street  was  my  only  hope.  No,  by  the  way — 1 
had  an  excuse.  I  have  been  looking  for  a  house-maid. 
None  to  be  had  though." 

"Don't  find  one,"  said  Geoffrey.  "Just  come  out 
every  day  to  look  for  one.  I  know  several  fellows  who 
would  hunt  house-maids  with  you  forever  if  they  got  the 
chance." 

"  Ah  !  they  never  dare  to  say  that  to  me.  They  might 
get  snapped  up.  Yet  it  is  hard  to  only  receive  compli- 
ments by  deputy,  like  this.  Do  they  intend  that,  after  all, 
I  shall  die  an  old  maid  ?  And  your  banks  friends  are  such 
excellent  partis  /  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  They  are,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  At  least,  they  would  be 
if  they  had  a  house  to  put  a  wife  into — to  say  nothing  of 
the  maid." 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


55 


"  Talking  of  house-maids,"  said  Margaret,  "  I  just  met 
Mrs.  whats-her-name — you  know,  the  little  American  with 
the  German  name  ;  and  she  had  just  discharged  one  of 
her  maids.  She  said  to  me,  *  You  know  I  have  just  one 
breakfast — ice-cold  water  and  a  hot  roll ;  sometimes  a 
pickle.  Sarah  said  I'd  kill  myself,  and  in  spite  of  every- 
thing I  could  say  she  would  load  the  table  with  tea  or 
coffee  and  stuff  I  don't  want.  'Last  I  got  mad  and  I 
walked  in  with  her  wages  up  to  date.  I  said,  *  Sarah  I 
guess  we  had  better  part.  You  don't  fill  the  bill.*  I  told 
her  I  would  try  and  get  Sarah  myself,  as  I  didn't  object  to 
her  ideas  in  the  matter  of  breakfasts.  I  have  been  looking 
for  her  and  wanting  some  nice  person  to  help  me  to  find 
her.  What  are  you  doing  this  afternoon }  Won't  you 
come  and  help  me  to  find  Sarah  ? "  This,  with  a  little  pre- 
tense of  implorando. 

"  If  you  think  I  *  fill  the  bill  *  as  *  a  nice  person  '  noth- 
ing would  give  me  greater  pleasure.  Sarah  will  be  found. 
No,  I  have  nothing  in  particular  on  hand  to-day.  I  was 
going  to  the  gymnasium  to  have  a  fellow  pummel  me  with 
the  gloves.  I  am  certain  I  have  received  more  headaches 
and  nose-bleedings  in  learning  how  to  defend  myself  with 
my  hands  than  one  would  receive  in  being  attacked  a 
dozen  times  in  earnest." 

"Well,  now  would  be  a  good  time  to  stop  taking  fur- 
ther lessons,"  said  Margaret.  "  Why  do  you  give  yourself 
so  much  trouble  ?  " 

"  Oh,  for  the  exercise,  I  suppose,  or  the  prestige  of 
being  a  boxer.  Keeps  one's  person  sacred,  in  a  manner ; 
and  among  young  men  serves  to  give  more  weight  to  the 
expression  of  one's  opinions.  I  think  it  is  a  mistake, 
though,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  Nature  made  me 
speedy  on  my  feet,  and  when  the  time  comes  I'll  use  her 
gift  instead  of  the  artificial  one." 

"  I  have  heard  it  said  that  it  is  much  wiser  for  a  gen- 


liM 


56 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


ij 


flu  l:"il;!!l( 


!(|ii(|i 


tleman  to  run  from  a  street  fight  than  to  stay  in  it — that 
the  fact  of  his  not  using  his  feet  as  a  means  of  attack  in  a 
fight  always  places  him  at  a  disadvantage.  Could  you  not 
learn  the  manly  art  of  kicking,  as  well  ? " 

"  What  a  murderous  notion  ! "  exclaimed  Geoffrey.  "  I 
don't  think  that  branch  of  self-defense  is  taught  in  the 
schools.  It  reminds  one  of  a  duel  with  axes.  For  my 
part,  I  think  that  hunting  Sarah  is  much  more  improving. 
That  is,  if  one  did  not  have  blood-thirsty  ideas  put  into 
his  head  on  the  way." 

And  Margaret  looked  so  gentle  and  pacific. 

"I  always  think  a  very  interesting  subject  like  this 
should  be  thought  out  carefully,"  said  she,  smiling. 

If  she  could  not  talk  well  on  all  subjects,  she  was  a 
boon  to  those  who  could  only  talk  on  one — to  those  who 
resemble  a  ship  with  only  one  sail  to  keep  them  going — 
slow  to  travel  on,  but  capable  of  teaching  something,  and 
not  to  be  despised. 

With  her  tall  figure,  classic  face,  and  blonde  hair,  Mar- 
garet Mackintosh  was  a  vision ;  but  when  she  came,  with 
large-pupiled  eyes,  in  quest  of  knowledge,  even  grave  and 
reverend  seigniors  were  apt  to  forget  the  information  she 
asked  for.  University-degree  young  men,  the  most  supe- 
rior of  living  creatures,  soon  understood  that  she  sought 
for  what  they  had  learned,  and  not  for  themselves  ;  and 
this  demeanor  on  her  part,  while  it  tended  to  disturb  the 
nice  balance  in  which  the  weight  of  their  mental  talents 
was  accurately  poised  against  that  of  their  physical  fasci- 
nations, went  to  make  friends  and  not  lovers. 

There  was  one  person,  however,  to  whose  appearance 
she  was  not  indifferent ;  who  always  suggested  to  her  the 
Apollo  Belvedere,  and  gave  her  an  increased  interest  in 
the  Homer  of  arts,  whereas  the  vigorous  life,  heroic  resolve, 
and  shapely  perfection  of  the  ancient  hero  meet  with  but 
little  response  in  women  who  exist  with  difficulty.     She 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


57 


was  perhaps  entitled,  by  a  sort  of  natural  right,  to  expect 
that  a  masculine  appearance  should  approach  that  grade 
of  excellence  of  which  she  was  herself  an  example. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  continued,  as  they  proceeded  up 
Yonge  Street,  "just  before  I  met  you  I  passed  such  a 
horrible  young  man,  with  long  arms  reaching  almost  to  his 
knees  and  a  little  face.  He  made  me  quite  uncomfort- 
able. It's  all  very  well  to  believe  in  our  evolution  as  an 
abstract  idea ;  but  an  experience  like  this  brings  the  con- 
viction home  to  one's  mind  altogether  too  vividly.  It  was 
quite  a  relief  to  meet  you.  You  always  look  so — in  fact, 
so  different  from  that  sort  of  person,  don't  you  know.^ " 

She  nearly  said  he  looked  so  like  her  Apollo,  but  did 
not. 

Geoffrey  smiled.  "There  are  times  when  the  idea 
seems  against  common  sense,"  said  he,  with  a  short  glance 
at  her. 

"  Ah !  you  intend  that  for  me.  But  you  are  almost 
repeating  father's  remark.  You  know  he  is  a  confirmed 
follower  of  the  theory.  A  few  days  ago  he  said  that  the 
only  thing  he  had  against  you  was  that  you  upset  his 
studies.  He  says  you  ought  to  hire  out  to  the  special- 
creationists  to  be  used  as  their  clinching  argument.  So 
you  see  what  it  is  to  be  an  Ap — " 

She  stopped. 

"  Ah  !  you  were  going  to  say  something  severe,  then," 
said  Geoffrey.  "  Just  as  well,  though,  to  snub  me  some- 
times. I  don't  mind  it  if  nobody  knows  of  it.  But, 
about  your  father  ?     Do  you  assist  him  in  his  studies  ? " 

"I  don't  know  that  I  assist  him  much.  He  does  the 
hardest  part  of  the  work,  and  then  has  to  explain  it  all 
to  me.  But  I  read  to  him  a  good  deal  when  his  eyes 
trouble  him.  After  procuring  a  new  book  on  the  subject 
he  never  rests  till  he  has  exhausted  it.  We  often  worry 
through   it  together,  taking  turns  at  the  reading.      We 


m 

m 


i 


i  .\ 


58 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


H 


Iff)    ii     I 


m\ 


i  I 


have  just  finished  Haeckel's  last.      We  are  wild  about 
Haeckel." 

"  Yes,  there  is  something  very  spiritual  and  orthodox 
about  him,"  said  Geoffrey.  "And  now  that  you  must 
have  got  about  as  far  as  you  can  at  present,  how  does  the 
theory  affect  you  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  except  to  make  me  long  to  know  more. 
If  one  could  live  to  be  two  hundred  years  old,  would  it 
not  be  delightful  ? "  said  Margaret,  looking  far  away  up 
the  street  in  front  of  her. 

*'  But  as  to  your  religion  ?  "  asked  Geoffrey.  "  Do  you 
find  that  it  makes  any  difference  ?  '* 

"  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  a  very  religious  person,"  she 
replied,  mistaking  the  word  religious  for  *  churchy.'  I 
never  was  christened,  nor  confirmed,  nor  taught  my  cate- 
chism, nor  anything  of  that  sort.  Nobody  ever  promised 
that  I  should  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his  works,  and  so 
— and  so  I  suppose  I  never  have." 

She  looked  at  Geoffrey  with  the  round  eyes  of  guile- 
lessness,  slightly  mirthful,  as  if,  while  deprecating  this 
wretched  state,  she  could  still  enjoy  life. 

Her  companion  could  scarcely  look  away  from  her. 
There  was  such  a  combination  of  knowledge  and  purity 
and  all-round  goodness  in  her  face  that  it  fascinated  him 
and  induced  him  to  say  gravely  : 

"  Indeed,  one  might  have  almost  supposed  that  you  had 
enjoyed  these  benefits  from  your  earliest  youth." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  I  have  been  neglected  in  church 
matters.  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps,  if  I  had  been  different, 
father  and  I  would  never  have  been  such  companions.  I 
never  remember  his  going  to  church,  although  he  pays  his 
pew-rent  for  mother  and  me  to  go.  He  is  afraid  people 
would  call  him  an  atheist,  you  know,  and  no  man  cares 
about  being  despised  or  looked  upon  as  peculiar  in  that 
way.     He  says  that  as  long  as  he  pays  his  pew-renjt  the 


•      ml 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


59 


good  people  will  let  him  alone.  As  for  mother,  I  hardly 
know  what  her  belief  is  now.  She  is  mildly  contemptu- 
ous of  evolution ;  chiefly,  I  think,  because  she  does  not 
know  or  care  anything  about  it.  She  says  the  creed  she 
was  brought  up  in  is  quite  enough  for  her,  and  if  she  can 
keep  the  dust  out  of  the  house  and  contentment  in  it  she 
will  do  more  than  most  people  and  fullfil  the  whole  duty 
of  woman.  I  don't  think  she  likes  to  be  cross-questioned 
about  her  particular  tenets,  which  really  seem  to  be  suf- 
ficient for  her,  except  when  she  is  worried  over  a  new 
phase  of  the  old  family  lawsuit,  and  then  she  oscillates 
between  pugnacity  and  resignation.  So  you  see  I  was  left 
pretty  much  to  myself  as  to  assuming  any  belief  that  I 
might  care  about." 

"  And  what  belief  did  you  come  to  care  about  ?  "  he 
asked,  feeling  interested. 

"Well,  father  seems  to  think  that  the  most  dignified 
attitude  of  our  ignorance  is  a  respectful  silence ;  but,  as 
you  have  asked  which  belief  I  care  about^  I  can  answer 
frankly  that  I  like  best  going  to  church  and  saying  my 
prayers.  It  is  so  much  more  pleasant  and  comfortable  to 
try  to  think  our  prayers  are  heard,  for,  as  mother  says, 
reason  and  logic  are  poor  outlets  for  emotion  when  the 
lawsuit  goes  wrong.  With  our  information  as  it  is,  our 
conclusions  seem  to  depend  on  whether  we  have  or  have 
not  in  us  the  spirit  of  research.  They  tell  me  in  the 
churches  that,  being  unregenerate,  my  heart  is  desper- 
ately wicked,  and,  as  I  have  nothing  but  a  little  bad  tem- 
per now  and  then  to  reproach  myself  with,  I  do  not  agree 
with  them.  On  the  contrary,  I  always  feel  that  my  life 
rather  tends  to  lead  me  toward  believing — or,  at  any  rate, 
does  not  make  me  prejudiced.  I  like  to  believe  that  God 
watches  over  and  cares  for  us.  There  being  no  proof  or 
disproof  of  the  matter,  I  would  find  it  as  difficult,  by  way  of 
reasoning,  to  altogether  disbelieve  as  to  altogether  believe." 


'•  I  •■■ 


n 


- 


1^. 


6o 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


"  Then  you  make  evolution  a  part  of  your  religion  ?  " 
asked  Geoffrey. 

Margaret  had  been  brought  up  in  an  advanced  latter- 
day  school.  All  the  unrecognized  passion  within  her  had 
gone  out  in  quest  of  knowledge,  which  her  father  had  taught 
her  to  regard  as  a  source  of  quiet  happiness,  or  at  least  as 
comforting  to  the  soul  during  the  maturer  years  as  an  in- 
tricate knowledge  of  crochet  and  quilt  work.  When  she 
took  to  her  bosom  the  so-called  dry-as-dust  facts  of  sci- 
ence she  clothed  them  in  a  sort  of  spirituality.  Even  slip- 
per-working for  a  married  curate  has  been  known  to  stir 
the  pulses,  and,  though  she  knew  that  when  the  objects 
of  our  enthusiasm  seem  to  glow  it  is  unsafe  to  say  whether 
the  glow  is  not  merely  the  reflection  of  our  own  fervor, 
she  regarded  the  lately  dug-up  facts  of  science  somewhat 
as  if  they  were  mines  of  long-hidden  coal,  capable  of  use 
and  possessed  of  intrinsic  warmth.  Her  face  brightened 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  devotee  as  she  answered 
Geoffrey's  question. 

"Indeed,  yes.  The  new  knowledge  seems  like  the 
backbone  of  my  religion.  I  often  sit  in  church  and  think 
what  a  blessed  privilege  it  is  to  be  permitted  to  know 
even  as  little  as  we  do  about  God's  plan  of  creation." 

She  joined  her  hands  before  her  quickly  as  she  walked 
along,  forgetful  of  all  but  the  idea  that  enchained  her. 
Her  face  showed  the  devotion  seen  in  some  old  pictures 
of  early  saints,  but  it  was  too  capable  and  animated  to  be 
the  production  of  any  of  the  old  masters. 

"  Oh,  it  is  grand  to  know  even  a  little  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed ;  "to  think  that  this  is  God's  plan,  and  that  bit 
by  bit  we  are  allowed  to  unravel  it !  Is  it  not  true  that 
we  acquire  knowledge  as  we  are  able  to  receive  it  ?  Did 
not  the  ruder  people  receive  the  simple  laws  which  Moses 
learned  in  Egypt  ?  and  did  not  Christianity  expand  those 
laws  by  teaching  the  religion  of  sympathy  ?     These  are 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


61 


historical  facts.  Why,  then,  should  we  not  regard  evolu- 
tion as  an  advanced  gospel,  the  gospel  of  the  knowledge  of 
God's  works,  to  bind  us  more  closely  to  him  from  our 
admiration  of  the  excellence  of  his  handiwork — as  a  father 
might  show  his  growing  son  how  his  business  is  carried 
on,  and  how  beautiful  things  are  made  ?  Of  course,  one 
may  reply  that  all  the  discoveries  do  not  show  that  there 
is  a  God.  Perhaps  they  don't ;  but  I  try  to  think  they 
do.  I  never  have  been  able  to  find  that  verbal  creeds  do 
much  toward  making  us  what  we  are.  The  gloomy  dis- 
tort Christ's  life  to  prove  the  necessity  for  sorrow  ;  the 
joyous  do  just  the  opposite.  The  naturally  cruel  practice 
their  cruelty  in  the  name  of  religion.  Though  all  start 
with  perhaps  the  same  words  on  their  lips,  each  indi- 
vidual in  reality  makes  his  religion  for  himself  according 
to  his  nature.  Look  at  the  difference  between  Guiteau 
and  Florence  Nightingale.  They  both  had  the  same 
creeds." 

Hampstead  was  silent. 

"  I  know  that  my  religion  might  not  suffice  for  others, 
because  it  has  no  terrors,  but  to  me  it  is  compelling. 
When  I  turn  it  all  over  more  minutely,  the  beauty  of  the 
thoughts  seems  to  carry  me  away.  Let  those  whose  brittle 
creeds  are  broken  grope  about  in  their  gloom,  if  they 
will.  To  me  it  is  glorious  first  to  try  to  understand 
things,  and  then  to  praise  God  for  his  marvelous  works." 

Margaret  grew  more  intense  in  her  utterance  as  her 
subject  grew  upon  her.  They  had  turned  off  on  a  quiet 
street  some  time  before,  so  there  was  nothing  to  interrupt 
her.  As  her  earnestness  gave  weight  to  her  voice,  the 
words  came  out  more  fervently  and  more  melodiously. 
Both  her  hands  were  raised,  in  an  unconscious  gesture, 
while  the  words  welled  forth  with  a  depth  and  force  im- 
possible to  describe. 

Geoffrey  walked  on  in  silence. 


¥■■ 


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:•  it- 


» 


w 


:;i 


62 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


He  thought  of  the  passage,  "  I  came  not  to  call  the 
righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance,"  and  he  wondered 
whether  Christ  would  have  thought  that  such  as  Mar- 
garet stood  in  need  of  any  further  faith.  The  shrine  of 
Understanding  was  the  only  one  she  worshiped  at,  arguing, 
as  she  did,  that  from  a  proper  understanding  and  true  wis- 
dom followed  all  the  goodness  of  the  Christ-life.  He  be- 
came conscious  of  a  vague  regret  within  him  that  he  had, 
as  he  thought,  passed  those  impressionable  periods  when  a 
man's  beliefs  may  be  molded  again.  There  was  a  dis- 
tinct longing  to  participate  in  the  assurance  and  joy 
which  any  kind  of  fixed  faith  is  capable  of  producing. 
The  Byronic  temperament  was  not  absent  from  him.  He 
was  keenly  susceptible  to  anything — either  moral  or  im- 
moral— which  called  upon  his  ideality ;  and  these  ideas  of 
Margaret's,  although  he  had  thought  of  them  before, 
seemed  new  to  him. 

"  It  seems  strange,"  he  said  musingly,  **  to  hear  of 
some  of  the  most  learned  men  of  the  day  erecting  an  altar 
similar  to  that  which  Paul  found  at  Athens  *  to  the  un- 
known God,'  and  to  find  them  impelled  to  worship  some- 
thing which  they  speak  of  as  unknown  and  unknowable." 

"  And  yet,"  she  answered,  "  it  is  the  work  of  some  of 
ihese  very  men,  and  their  predecessors,  that  gives  the  light 
and  life  to  the  religion  which  I,  for  one,  find  productive 
of  comfort  and  enthusiasm.  One  can  understand  the  prac- 
ticability of  a  heaven  where  a  gradual  acquisition  of  the 
fullness  of  knowledge  could  be  a  joyful  and  everlasting 
occupation ;  and  I  think  a  religion  to  fit  us  for  such  a 
heaven  should,  like  the  Buddhist's,  strive  to  increase  our 
knowledge  instead  of  endeavoring  to  stifle  it.  What  is 
there  definitely  held  out  as  reward  by  religions  to  make 
men  improve  ?  As  far  as  I  can  see,  there  is  nothing  defi- 
nite promised,  except  in  Buddhism  perhaps,  which  men 
with  active  minds  would  care  to  accept.    But  knowledge ! 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


63 


knowledge  !  This  is  what  may  bring  an  eternity  of  act- 
ive happiness.  Here  is  a  vista  as  delightful  as  it  is 
boundless.  Surely  in  this  century,  we  have  less  cause  to 
call  God  altogether  *  unknown '  than  had  the  men  of 
Athens.  In  the  light  of  omniscience  the  difference  may 
be  slight  indeed,  but  to  us  it  is  great.  "  I  do  hope,"  she 
added,  "  that  what  I  have  said  does  not  offend  any  of 
your  own  religious  convictions." 

"  I  have  none,"  said  Geoffrey  simply ;  "  and  it  is  very 
good  of  you  to  tell  me  so  much  about  yourself.  I  have 
been  wanting  something  of  the  kind.  You  know  Bulv^er 
says,  '  No  moral  can  be  more  impressive  than  that  which 
shows  how  a  man  may  become  entangled  in  his  own  soph- 
isms.' He  says  it  is  better  than  a  volume  of  homilies ; 
and  it  is  difficult  sometimes,  after  a  course  of  reading  mixed 
up  with  one's  own  vagaries,  to  judge  as  to  one's  self  or  oth- 
ers from  a  sufficiently  stable  standpoint.  You  always  seem 
to  give  me  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  what  good  really  is, 
and  to  tell  me  where  I  am  in  any  moral  fog." 

They  walked  on  together  for  some  little  distance  fur- 
ther when  Margaret  stopped  and  began  to  look  up  and 
down  the  street. 

"  Why,  where  are  we  ? "  she  said.  "  What  street  is 
this  ?  " 

**  I  can  not  help  you  with  the  name  of  the  street.  I 
supposed  we  were  approaching  the  domicile  of  Sarah. 
We  are  now  in  St.  John's  Ward,  I  think,  and  unless  Sarah 
happens  to  be  a  colored  person  you  are  not  likely  to  find 
her  in  this  neighborhood." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Margaret,  as  she  descended  from 
considering  the  possible  occupations  of  the  heavenly  host 
to  those  usual  in  St.  John's  Ward,  "  I  have  not  an  idea 
where  we  are.  We  must  have  come  a  long  distance 
out  of  our  way.  It  is  your  fault  for  doing  all  the 
talking." 


I 


:--f 


'^•ritl 


't  1 


64 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"On  the  contrary,  Miss  Margaret,  I  have  been  unable 
to  get  a  word  in  edgewise." 

The  search  for  Sarah  was  abandoned,  and  they  wended 
their  way  toward  Margaret's  home,  the  conversation  pass- 
ing to  other  subjects  and  to  Nina  Lindon,  whom  they  dis- 
cussed in  connection  with  the  ball  at  the  Dusenalls'. 

"  They  certainly  seem  very  devoted,  do  they  not  ?  " 
said  Margaret,  referring  to  Jack  Cresswell  also. 

*'Yes,  their  attachment  for  each  other  is  quite  idyllic," 
said  Geoffrey,  lapsing  into  his  cynical  speech,  "  which  is  as 
it  should  be.  I  did  not  see  them  much  together,  as  I  left 
early." 

"  I  noticed  your  absence,  at  least  I  remembered  after- 
ward not  having  seen  you  late  in  the  evening,  but,  as  you 
take  such  an  interest  in  your  friend,  you  should  have  stayed 
longei,  if  only  to  see  the  very  happy  expression  on  his 
face.  You  ^now  she  is  spoken  of  as  being  the  belle^  and 
certainly  he  ought  to  be  proud  of  her,  as  the  attention 
she  attracted  was  so  very  marked.  I  thought  her  appear- 
ance was  charming.  They  seemed  to  make  an  exception 
to  the  rule  among  lovers  that  one  loves  and  the  other  sub- 
mits to  be  loved." 

"  1  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  this,"  said  Geoffrey,  as  he 
silently  reflected  as  to  the  cause  of  Nina's  return  to  do  her 
duty  in  a  way  thn*  would  tend  to  ease  her  conscience. 
"  Jack  is  wor  01  the  br  t  of  girls.  Have  you  ever  called 
Upor     ii«  z:!^ 

N  -  i3ut  Mr,  Cresswell  spoke  to  me  about 

M  .^indc  ac  iaid  he  would  like  me  to  know  her.  So 
I  suid  we  uould  call.  I  am  afraid,  however,  that  mother 
will  complain  at  the  length  of  her  visiting  list  being  in- 
creased. She  will  have  )  be  coaxed  into  this  call  to 
please  me." 

"  Jack  cherishes  an  ea  that  Miss  Lindon,  he,  and  I 
will  become  a  trio  of  goo    friends,"  said  Geoffrey.    **  Now, 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


65 


if  anything  could  be  done  to  make  it  a  quartette,  if  you 
would  consent  to  make  a  fourth,  Miss  Margaret,  I  am  cer- 
tain the  new  arrangement  would  be  more  satisfactory  to 
all  parties,  especially  so  to  me  considered  as  one  of  the 
trio.     A  gooseberry's  part  is  fraught  with  difficulties." 

**  The  more  the  merrier,  no  doubt,  in  this  case.  Num- 
bers will  release  you  from  your  responsibilities.  I  have 
myself  two  or  three  friends  that  would  make  excellent 
additions  to  the  quartette.  There's  Mr.  Le  Fevre,  of  your 
bank,  and  also  Mr. — " 

"  Ah,  well !  "  said  Geoffrey,  interrupting.  "  Let  us  con- 
sider. I  don't  think  that  it  was  contemplated  to  make  a 
universal  brotherhood  of  this  arrangement.  If  there  are 
to  be  any  more  elected  I  should  propose  that  the  male 
candidates  should  be  balloted  for  by  the  male  electors 
only,  and  that  additional  lady  members  should  be  disposed 
of  by  their  own  sex  only.  Let  me  see.  In  the  event  of 
a  tie  in  voting,  the  matter  might  be  left  to  a  general  meet- 
ing to  be  convened  for  consultation  and  ice-cream,  and,  ii 
the  candidate  be  thrown  out  by  a  majority,  the  proposer 
should  be  obliged  to  pay  the  expenses  incurred  by  the 
conclave." 

"  That  seems  a  feasible  method,"  said  Margaret. 
"Although  I  tell  you,  if  we  girls  do  not  have  the  right 
men,  there  will  be  trouble.  And  now  we  ought  to  name 
the  new  society.  What  do  you  say  to  calling  it  *  An  Asso- 
ciation for  the  Propagation  of  Friendly  Feeling  among 
Themselves '  ? " 

*'  Limited,"  added  Geoffrey,  thinking  that  the  member- 
ship ought  to  be  restricted. 

"  Oh,  limited,  by  all  means,"  cried  Margaret.  "  I 
should  rather  think  so.  Limited  in  finances,  brains,  and 
everything  else.  And  then  the  rules !  Politics  and  relig- 
ion excluded,  of  course,  as  in  any  other  club  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  those  so  much  as  discussions  of 
^     5 


W' 


'"  •  tJ^ ' 


W:  11 


.V  ">: 


''<;i '.  • 


66 


GEOFFREY   HAMfSTEAD. 


millinery  and  dress-making.  These  should  be  vetoed  at 
any  general  meeting." 

"  Excuse  me.  These  are  subjects  that  come  under  the 
head  of  art,  and  ought  to  be  permissible  to  any  extent ; 
but  I  do  make  strong  objection  to  the  use  of  yachting 
terms  and  sporting  language  generally." 

"Possibly  you  are  right,"  said  Geoffrey.  "But  Jack 
— poor  Jack  !  he  must  refer  to  starboard  bulkheads  and 
that  sort  of  thing  from  time  to  time.  However,  we  will 
agree  to  each  other's  objections,  but  we  must  certainly 
place  an  embargo  upon  saying  ill-natured  things  about 
our  neighbors — " 

"  Good  heavens,  man  !  Do  you  expect  us  to  be 
dumb  ? "  cried  Margaret.  "  Very  well.  It  shall  be  so. 
We  will  call  it  the  *  Dumb  Improvement  Company  for 
Learned  Pantomime.*  " 

And  thus  they  rattled  on  in  their  fanciful  talk  merrily 
enough — interrupting  each  other  and  laughing  over  their 
own  absurdities,  and  sharpening  their  wits  on  each  other, 
as  only  good  friends  can,  until  Margaret's  home  was 
reached. 

To  Geoffrey  it  seemed  to  emphasize  Margaret's  youth 
and  companionability  when,  in  following  his  changing 
moods,  she  could  so  readily  make  the  transition  from  the 
sublime  to  the  ridiculous. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Rosalind.     Sir,  you  have  wrestled  well,  and  overthrown  more  than  your 
enemies. — As  You  Like  It, 


In  the  few  weeks  following  the  entertainment  of  the 
Dusenalls,  Hampstead  had  not  seen  Nina.  He  felt  he  had 
been  doing  harm.    The  memory  of  that  which  had  occurred 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


67 


and  a  twinge  or  two  at  his  unfaithfulness  to  his  friend  Jack 
had  made  him  avoid  seeing  her.  But  afterward,  as  fancy 
for  seeing  her  again  came  to  him  more  persistently,  he 
gradually  reverted  to  the  old  method  of  self-persuasion, 
that  if  she  preferred  Jack  she  might  have  him.  He  said 
he  did  not  intend  to  show  "  any  just  cause  or  impediment  '* 
when  Jack's  marriage  bans  were  published,  and  what  the 
girl  might  now  take  it  into  her  head  to  do  was  no  subject 
of  anxiety  to  him. 

She,  in  the  mean  time,  had  lost  no  time  in  improving  her 
acquaintance  with  Margaret  after  the  calls  had  been  ex- 
changed. Margaret  was  not  peculiar  in  finding  within  her 
an  argument  in  favor  of  one  who  evidently  sought  her  out, 
and  the  small  amount  of  effusion  on  Nina's  part  was  not 
without  some  of  its  desired  effect.  Nina  wished  to  be  her 
particular  friend.  She  had  ^jerceived  that  a  difference  ex- 
isted between  them — a  something  that  Geoffrey  seemed  to 
admire ;  and  she  had  the  vague  impulse  to  form  herself 
upon  her. 

Huxley  explained  table-turning  by  a  simple  experiment. 
He  placed  cards  underneath  the  hands  of  the  people  form- 
ing the  charmed  circle  round  the  table,  and  when  they 
all  "willed"  that  the  table  should  move  in  a  particular 
direction  the  cards  and  hands  moved  in  that  direction, 
while  the  table  resisted  the  spirits  and  remained  firm  on 
its  feet.  In  a  similar  way,  Nina's  impulse  to  know  Mar- 
garet and  frame  herself  upon  her  were  all  a  process  of  un- 
conscious self-deception  which  resembled  the  illusions  of 
unrecognized  muscular  movements.  She  had  no  fixed 
ideas  regarding  Hampstead.  Her  actions  were  simply  the 
result  of  his  presence  in  her  thoughts.  She  moved  toward 
him,  distantly  and  vaguely,  but  surely — somewhat  as  the 
card  of  a  ship-compass,  when  it  is  spinning,  seems  to  have 
no  fixed  destination,  though  its  ultimate  direction  is  cer- 
tain. 


m 


M 


fi'\ 


pii/;:- 


68 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


She  found  it  easy  to  bring  the  Dusenall  girls  to  regard 
Margaret  as  somebody  worth  cultivating.  The  family  tree 
of  the  Dusenall's  commenced  with  the  grandfather  of  the 
Misses  Dusenall,  who  haa  got  rich  "  out  West."  On  inquiry 
they  found  that  Margaret's  family  tree  dwarfed  that  of  any 
purely  Canadian  family  into  a  mere  shrub  by  comparison  ; 
and  on  knowing  her  better  they  found  her  brightness  and 
vivacity  a  great  addition  to  little  dinners  and  lunches 
where  conversational  powers  are  at  a  premium. 

With  plenty  of  money,  no  work,  an  army  of  servants,  a 
large  house  and  grounds,  a  stable  full  of  horses,  and  a  good 
yacht,  three  or  four  young  people  can  with  the  assistance 
of  their  friends  support  life  fairly  well.  Lawn-tennis  was 
their  chief  resource.  Nina,  being  rather  of  the  Dudu  type, 
was  not  wiry  enough  to  play  well,  and  Margaret  had  not 
learned.  She  was  strong  and  could  run  well,  but  this  was 
not  of  much  use  to  her.  When  the  ball  came  toward  her 
through  the  air  she  seemed  to  become  more  or  less  para- 
lyzed. Between  nervous  anxiety  to  hit  the  ball  and  ina- 
bility to  judge  .its  distance,  she  usually  ended  in  doing 
nothing,  and  felt  as  if  incurring  contempt  when  involun- 
tarily turning  her  back  upon  it.  If  she  did  manage  to 
make  a  hit,  the  ball  generally  had  to  be  found  in  the 
flower-beds  far  away  on  either  side  of  the  courts.  In 
cricketing  parlance,  she  played  to  "  cover  point "  or 
**  square  leg  "  with  much  impartiality. 

So  these  two  generally  looked  on  and  made  up  for  their 
want  of  skill  in  dignity  and  in  conversation  among  them- 
selves and  with  the  men  too  languid  to  play.  The  wonder 
was  that  the  marriageable  young  women  liked  Margaret 
so  well.  With  her  long,  symmetrical  dress  rustling  over  the 
lawn  and  her  lace-covered  parasol  occasionally  hiding  her 
dainty  bonnet  and  well-poised  head,  Margaret  might  have 
been  regarded  as  an  enemy  and  labeled  "  dangerous,"  but 
the  girls  trusted  her  with  their  particular  young  men,  with 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


«9 


a  sort  of  knowledge  that  she  did  not  want  any  of  them,  even 
if  the  men  themselves  should  prove  volatile  and  recreant. 
After  all,  what  young  girls  chiefly  seek  "  when  all  the  world 
is  young,  lad,  and  all  the  trees  are  green,"  is  to  have  a 
good  time  and  not  be  interrupted  in  their  whims.  So 
Margaret,  who  was  launching  out  into  a  gayer  life  than  she 
had  led  before,  got  on  well  enough,  and  the  wonder  as  to 
what  girls  who  did  nothing  found  to  talk  about  was  wear- 
ing off.  If  she  was  not  much  improved  in  circles  where 
general  advantages  seemed  to  promise  originality,  it  was 
no  bad  recreation  sometimes  to  study  the  exact  minimum 
of  intelligence  that  general  advantages  produced,  and  the 
drives  in  the  carriages  and  Nina's  village-cart  were  agree- 
able. She  was  partial  to  "  hen-parties."  Nina  had  one  of 
these  exclusive  feasts  where  perhaps  the  success  of  many 
a  persistent  climber  of  the  social  ladder  has  been  annihi- 
lated. It  was  a  luncheon  party.  Of  course  the  Dusenall 
girls  were  there,  and  a  number  of  others.  Mrs.  Lindon 
did  not  appear.  Nina  was  asked  where  she  was,  but  she 
said  she  did  not  know.  As  she  never  did  seem  to  know, 
this  was  not  considered  peculiar. 

On  this  day  Margaret  was  evidently  the  particular 
guest,  and  she  was  made  much  of  by  several  girls  whom 
she  had  not  met  before.  It  was  worth  their  while,  for  she 
was  Nina's  friend  and  Nina  had  such  delicious  things — 
such  a  "  perfect  love  "  of  a  boudoir,  all  dadoes,  and  that 
sort  of  thing,  with  high-art  furniture  for  ornament  and 
low-art  furniture  in  high-art  colors  for  comfort,  articles 
picked  up  in  her  traveling,  miniature  bronzes  of  well- 
known  statues,  a  carved  tower  of  Pisa  of  course,  coral 
from  Naples,  mosaics  from  Florence,  fancy  glassware  from 
Venice — in  fact  a  tourist  could  trace  her  whole  journey  on 
examining  the  articles  on  exhibition.  A  French  cook 
supplied  the  table  with  delectable  morsels  which  it  were 
an  insult  to  speak  of  as  food.     Altogether  her  home  was  a 


if 

j||; 

ill' 

ill 

.  •     * 


I 


'}ifr 


%^ 


70 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


pleasant  resort  for  her  acquaintances,  and  there  were 
those  present  who  thought  it  not  unwise  to  pay  attention 
to  any  person  whom  Nina  made  much  of. 

There  were  some  who  could  have  been  lackadaisical 
and  admiring  nothing,  if  the  tone  of  the  feast  had  been 
different,  but  Margaret  was  for  admiring  everything  and 
enjoying  everything,  and  having  a  generally  noisy  time 
and  lots  of  fun.  She  was  a  wild  thing  when  she  got  off 
in  this  way,  as  she  said,  "  on  a  little  bend,"  and  carried 
the  others  off  with  her. 

What  concerns  us  was  the  talk  about  the  bank  games. 
Some  difference  of  opinion  arose  as  to  whether  or  not 
these  were  enjoyable.  Not  having  been  satisfied  with  at- 
tention from  the  right  quarter  at  previous  bank  games, 
several  showed  aversion  to  them.  Nina  was  looking  for- 
ward with  interest  to  the  coming  events,  and  Margaret, 
when  she  heard  that  Geoffrey  and  Jack  and  other  friends 
were  to  compete  in  the  contests,  was  keen  to  be  a  specta- 
tor. Emily  Dusenall  remarked  that  Geoffrey  Hampstead 
was  said  to  be  a  splendid  runner,  and  that  these  games 
were  the  first  he  had  taken  any  part  in  at  Toronto,  as  he 
had  been  away  during  last  year's.  It  was  arranged  that 
Nina  and  Margaret  should  go  with  the  Dusenalls  to  the 
games  after  some  discussion  as  to  whose  carriage  should 
be  used.  Nina  asserted  that  their  carriage  was  brand  new 
from  England  and  entitled  to  consideration,  but  the  Du- 
senalls insisted  that  theirs  was  brand  new,  too,  and,  more 
than  that,  the  men  had  just  been  put  into  a  new  livery. 
It  was  left  to  Margaret,  who  decided  that  she  could  not 
possibly  go  in  any  carriage  unless  the  men  vv'ere  in  livery 
absolutely  faultless. 

Some  days  after  this  the  carriage  with  the  men  of  spot- 
less livery  rolled  vice-regally  and  softly  into  the  great 
lacrosse  grounds  where  the  Bank  Athletic  Sports  were 
taking  place.     The  large  English  carriage  horses  pranced 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD.. 


71 


gently  and  discreetly  as  they  heard  the  patter  of  their  feet 
on  the  springy  turf,  and  they  champed  their  shining  bits 
and  shook  their  chains  and  threw  flakes  of  foam  about 
their  harness  as  if  they  also,  if  permitted,  would  willingly 
join  in  the  sports.  There  was  Margaret,  sitting  erect,  her 
eyes  luminous  with  excitement.  Inwardly  she  was  shrink- 
ing from  the  gaze  of  the  spectators  who  were  on  every 
side,  and  as  usual  she  talked  "  against  time,"  which  was 
her  outlet  for  nervousness  in  public  places.  Mrs.  Mac- 
kintosh had  made  her  get  a  new  dress  for  the  occasion, 
which  fitted  her  to  perfection,  and  Nina  declared  she 
looked  just  like  the  Princess  of  Wales  bowing  from  the 
carriage  in  the  Row.  The  two  Dusenalls  were  sitting  in 
the  front  seat.  Nina  sat  beside  Margaret.  Nina  was 
looking  particularly  well.  So  beautiful  they  both  were  ! 
And  such  different  types !  Surely,  if  one  did  not  disable 
a  critical  stranger,  the  other  would  finish  him. 

The  whole  turn-out  gave  one  a  general  impression  of 
laces,  French  gloves,  essence  of  flowers,  flower  bonnets, 
lace-smothered  parasols,  and  beautiful  women.  There  was 
also  an  air  of  wealth  about  it,  which  tended  to  keep  away 
thf;  more  reticent  of  Margaret's  admirers.  She  knew  men 
of  whose  existence  Society  was  not  aware — men  who  were 
beginning — who  lived  as  they  best  could,  and,  as  yet,  were 
better  provided  with  brains  than  dress-coats.  Moreover, 
the  Dusenalls  had  a  way  of  lolling  back  in  their  carriage 
which  they  took  to  be  an  attitude  capable  of  interpreting 
that  they  were  "  to  the  manor  born."  There  was  a  sup- 
ercilious expression  about  them,  totally  different  from 
their  appearance  at  Nina's  luncheon,  and  they  had 
brought  to  perfection  the  art  of  seeing  no  person  but 
the  right  person.  Consequently,  it  required  more  than  a 
usual  amount  of  confidence  in  one's  social  position  to 
approach  their  majesties.  The  wrong  man  would  get 
snubbed  to  a  dead  certainty. 


!'«*•'' 


'<:■?■• 


^^wr 


<-■.« 


72 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


After  passing  the  long  grand  stand  the  carriage  drew 
up  in  an  advantageous  spot  where  they  could  see  the 
termination  of  the  mile  walking  match.  The  volunteer 
band  had  brokenly  ceased  to  play  Ood  save  the  Queen 
on  discovering  that  theirs  was  no/  the  vice-regal  carriage, 
and,  in  the  field,  Jack  Cresswell  was  coming  round  the 
ring,  with  several  others  apparently  abreast  of  him,  heel- 
ing and  toeing  it  in  fine  style.  As  they  watched  the  con- 
test, sympathy  with  Jack  soon  became  aroused.  Margaret 
heard  somebody  say  that  this  was  the  home-stretch. 
Several  young  bank-clerks  were  standing  about  within  ear- 
shot, and  she  listened  to  what  they  were  saying  as  if  all 
they  said  was  oracular. 

"  Gad  !  Jack's  forging  ahead,"  said  one. 

"Yes,  but  Brownlee  of  Molson's  is  after  him.  Bet 
you  the  cigars  Brownlee  wins  !  " 

This  was  too  much  for  Margaret.  She  stood  up  in  the 
carriage  and,  without  knowing  it,  slightly  waved  her  para- 
sol at  Jack,  not  because  he  would  see  her  encourage- 
ment, but  on  general  principles,  because  she  felt  like 
doing  so,  regardless  of  what  the  finer  feelings  of  the 
Dusenalls  might  be.  The  walkers  crossed  the  winning 
\'me^  and  it  was  difficult  to  see  who  won.  Margaret  sat 
down  again,  her  face  lighted  with  excitement,  and  said 
all  in  a  breath  : 

*'  Was  not  that  splendid  ?  How  they  did  get  over  the 
ground !  What  a  pace  they  went  at !  Poor  Jack,  how 
tired  he  must  be  !  I  do  hope  he  won,  Nina,"  and  she  laid 
her  hand  on  Nina's  tight-sleeved  soft  arm  with  emphasis. 

The  Dusenalls  did  not  think  there  was  much  interest 
in  a  stupid  walking-match,  and  they  thought  standing 
up  and  waving  one's  parasol  rather  bad  form,  so  they 
were  not  enthusiastic. 

Nina  said  softly  :  "  Indeed,  if  you  take  so  much  inter- 
est in  Jack  I'll  get  jealous," 


QEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


73 


While  she  said  this  her  face  began  to  color,  and  Mar- 
garet's reply  was  interrupted  by  Geoffrey  Hampstead's 
voice  which  announced  welcome  news.  He  gave  them  all 
a  sort  of  collective  half-bow  and  shook  hands  with  Nina 
in  a  careless,  friendly  way. 

'*  I  come  with  glad  tidings — as  a  sort  of  harbinger  of 
spring,  or  Noah's  dove  with  an  olive-branch — or  some- 
thing of  the  kind," 

*'  Is  your  cigar  the  olive-branch  ?  To  represent  the 
dove  you  should  have  it  in  your  mouth,"  said  Nina. 
"  Stop,  I  will  give  you  an  olive-branch,  so  that  you  may 
look  your  part  better." 

She  wished  Geoffrey  to  know  that  she  felt  no  anger 
for  what  had  occurred  at  the  ball.  Geoffrey  saw  the  idea, 
and  answered  it  understandingly  as  she  held  out  a  sprig 
of  mignonette. 

"  I  suppose  this  token  of  peace  can  only  be  carried  in 
my  mouth,"  said  Geoffrey,  throwing  away  his  cigar. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Nina,  and  her  gloved  fingers  trembled 
slightly  as  she  put  the  olive-branch  between  his  lips, 
saying  "There  !  now  you  look  wonderfully  like  a  dove." 

Margaret  was  smiling  at  this  small  trifling,  but  her 
anxiety  about  the  walking-match  was  quite  unabated. 
She  said  :  '*  I  do  not  see  why  you  call  yourself  a  harbin- 
ger of  spring  or  anything  else  unless  you  have  some- 
thing to  tell  us.  What  is  your  feood  news  ?  Has  Mr. 
Cresswell  won  the  prize  ? " 

"  By  about  two  inches,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  I  thought  I 
might  create  an  indirect  interest  in  myself,  with  Miss 
Lindon  at  least,  by  coming  to  tell  you  of  it."  He  wore  a 
grave  smile  as  he  said  this,  which  made  Nina  blush. 

"  And  so  you  did  create  an  indirect  interest  in  your- 
self," said  Margaret.  "  Now  you  can  interest  us  on  your 
own  account.  What  are  you  going  to  compete  for  to- 
day ? " 


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74 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


Hampstead  was  clad  in  cricketing  flannels — his  coat 
buttoned  up  to  the  neck. 

"  I  entered  for  a  good  many  things,"  said  he,  "  in  order 
that  I  might  go  in  for  what  I  fancied  when  the  time  came. 
They  are  contesting  now  for  the  high-pole  jump.  Per- 
haps we  had  better  watch  them,  as  they  have  already 
begun  to  compete.  I  am  anxious  to  see  how  they 
do  it." 

High  leaping  with  the  pole  is  worth  watching  if  it  be 
well  done.  Margaret's  interest  increased  with  every  trial 
of  the  men  who  were  competing,  and  she  almost  suffered 
when  a  "  poler  "  did  his  best  and  failed.  One  man  incased 
in  "  tights  "  was  doing  well,  and  also  a  small  young  fellow 
who  had  thrown  off  his  coat,  apparently  in  an  impromptu 
way,  and  was  jumping  in  a  pair  of  black  trousers,  which 
looked  peculiar  and  placed  him  at  a  disadvantage  from 
their  looseness.  The  others  soon  dropped  out  of  the  contest, 
being  unable  to  clear  the  long  lath  that  was  always  being 
put  higher.  These  two  had  now  to  fight  it  out  together. 
They  had  both  cleared  the  same  height,  and  the  next  ele- 
vation of  the  lath  had  caused  them  both  to  fail.  Mar- 
garet was  on  her  feet  again  in  the  carriage,  her  face  glow- 
ing as  she  watched  every  movement  of  the  "  polers."  Her 
sympathies  were  entirely  with  the  funny  little  man  in  black 
trousers.  The  other  at  length  cleared  the  lath,  amid  ap- 
plause. But  the  little  hero  in  black  still  held  on  and 
made  his  attempts  gracefully. 

"  Oh,"  said  Margaret,  gazing  straight  before  her,  "  I 
would  give  anything  in  the  world  to  see  that  circus-man 
beaten  ! " 

"  How  much  would  you  give,  Miss  Mackintosh  ?  "  said 
Geoffrey. 

Margaret  did  not  hear  him. 

**  Oh,  I  want  my  little  flying  black  angel  to  win.  Is  it 
impossible  for  anybody  to  beat  the  enemy  ?  "    Then,  turn- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


7S 


ing  excitedly  to  the  girls,  she  said  hurriedly,  "  I  could 
just  love  anybody  who  could  beat  the  enemy." 

"  Does  *  anybody  '  include  me  ? "  asked  Geoffrey,  laugh- 
ing. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Margaret,  catching  at  the  idea. 
"  Can  you  really  defeat  him  ?  Yes,  indeed,  I  will  devote 
myself  forever  to  anybody  who  can  beat  him.  Have  you 
a  pole  ?  Borrow  one.  Hurry  away  now,  while  you  have  a 
chance."  In  her  eagerness  her  words  seemed  to  chase 
each  other. 

"Well — will  you  all  love  me? "  inquired  Geoffrey,  with 
an  aggravating  delay. 

There  was  a  shrill  chorus  of  "  Until  death  us  do  part  " 
from  the  girls,  and  Geoffrey  skipped  over  a  couple  of 
benches  and  ran  over  to  the  "  polers,"  where  he  claimed 
the  right  to  compete,  as  he  had  been  entered  previously  in 
due  time  for  this  contest.  Strong  objection  was  imme- 
diately raised  by  the  man  in  tights.  The  judges,  after 
some  discussion,  allowed  Geoffrey  to  take  part  amid  much 
protestation  from  the  members  of  the  circus-man's  bank. 

Geoffrey  took  his  pole  from  Jack  Cresswell,  who  had 
competed  on  it  without  success.  It  was  a  stout  pole  of 
some  South  American  wood,  and  very  long.  He  threw 
off  his  coat,  displaying  a  magnificent  body  in  a  jersey  of 
azure  silk.  After  walking  up  to  look  at  the  lath  he  grasped 
his  pole  and,  making  a  long  run,  struck  it  into  the  ground 
and  mounted  into  the  air.  He  had  not  risen  very  high 
when  he  saw  that  he  had  miscalculated  the  distance ;  so 
he  slid  down  his  pole  to  the  earth.  Derisive  coughs  were 
heard  from  different  parts  of  the  field,  and  "Tights" 
looked  at  Geoffrey  maliciously  and  laughed. 

At  the  next  rush  that  Geoffrey  made,  he  sailed  rp  into 
the  air  on  his  pole  like  a  great  bird,  and  as  he  became 
almost  poised  in  mid-air,  he  went  hand  over  hand  up  the 
stout  pole.     Then,  by  a  trick  that  can  not  be  easily  de- 


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76 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


i 


scribed,  his  legs  and  body  launched  out  horizontally  over 
the  lath,  and  throwing  away  his  pole  he  dropped  lightly 
on  his  feet  without  disturbing  anything. 

"  Tights  "  was  furious,  and  he  said  something  hot  to 
Geoffrey,  who,  however,  did  not  reply. 

A  difficulty  arose  here  because  there  were  no  more  holes 
in  the  uprights  to  place  the  pegs  in  to  hold  up  the  lath. 
Geoffrey  was  now  even  with  the  enemy,  but  not  ahead  of 
him.  So  he  asked  the  judges  to  place  the  lath  across  the 
top  of  the  uprights.  This  raised  the  lath  a  good  fifteen 
inches,  and  nobody  supposed  that  it  could  be  cleared. 

There  was  soui^thing  stormy  about  Hampstead  when 
a  man  provoked  him,  and  "  Tights "  had  been  very  un- 
pleasant. He  pointed  to  the  almost  absurd  elevation  of 
the  lath  ;  his  tones  were  short  and  exasperating  as  he  ad- 
dressed his  very  savage  rival  : 

"  Now,  my  man,  there's  your  chance  to  exhibit  your 
form." 

"  Tights  "  refused  to  make  any  useless  trial,  but  relieved 
the  tension  of  his  feelings  by  forcing  a  bet  of  fifty  dollars 
on  Geoffrey  that  he  could  not  clear  it  himself. 

The  excitement  was  now  considerable.  Geoffrey  took 
the  offered  bet,  pleased  to  be  able  to  punish  his  antagonist 
further.  But  really  the  whole  thing  was  like  child's-play 
to  him.  It  seemed  as  if  he  could  clear  anything  his  pole 
would  reach.  His  hand-over-hand  climbing  was  like 
lightning,  and  he  went  over  the  lath,  cricket  trousers  and 
all,  with  quite  as  much  ease  as  when  it  was  in  the  lower 
position,  and  this  amid  a  wild  burst  of  applause. 

He  then  grabbed  his  coat  and  made  for  the  dressing- 
room,  to  prepare  for  the  hurdle  race,  for  which  the  bell 
was  ringing. 

When  he  ran  out  into  the  field  again,  after  about  a 
moment,  he  was  clad  in  tights  of  azure  silk  with  long 
trunks  of  azure  satin,  and  his  feet  wore  running  shoes  that 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


77 


fitted  like  a  glove.  No  wonder  girls  raved  about  him. 
So  did  the  men.  He  was  a  grand  picture,  as  beautiful  as 
a  god  in  his  celestial  colors. 

But  there  was  work  for  him  to  do  in  the  hurdle  race. 
The  best  amateur  runners  in  Canada  were  to  be  with  him 
in  this  race,  and  there  is  a  field  for  choice  among  Canadian 
bank  athletes.  They  were  to  start  from  a  distant  part  of 
the  grounds,  run  around  the  great  oval,  and  finish  close  to 
our  carriage,  where  eager  faces  were  hopeful  for  his  suc- 
cess. Geoffrey  made  a  bad  start — not  having  recovered 
after  being  once  called  back.  The  first  hurdle  saw  him 
over  last,  but  between  the  jumps  his  speed  soon  put  him 
in  the  ruck.  There  is  no  race  like  the  hurdle  race  for  ex- 
citement. At  the  fourth  hurdle  some  one  in  front  struck 
the  bar,  which  flew  up  just  as  Geoffrey  rose  to  it.  His 
legs  hit  it  in  the  air  and  he  was  launched  forward,  turned 
around,  and  sent  head  downward  to  the  ground.  The 
thought  that  he  might  be  killed  went  through  many  minds. 
But  those  who  thought  so  did  not  know  that  he  could 
gallop  over  these  hurdles  like  a  horse,  lighting  on  his 
hands.  No  doubt  it  was  a  great  wrench  for  him,  but  he 
lit  on  his  hands  and  was  off  again  like  the  wind. 

The  fall  had  lost  him  his  chance,  he  thought,  but  he 
went  on  with  desperation  and  pain,  his  head  thrown  back 
and  his  face  set  to  win.  It  was  a  long  race,  and  five 
more  hurdles  had  yet  to  be  passed.  The  first  of  these 
was  knocked  down,  so  that  in  merely  running  through 
he  gained  time  by  not  having  to  jump,  and  he  rapidly 
closed  on  those  before  him.  His  speed  between  jumps 
was  marvelous.  His  hair  blew  back  in  blonde  confusion, 
and  he  might  well  have  been  taken  to  represent  some  god 
of  whirlwinds,  or  an  azure  archangel  on  some  flying  mis- 
sion. He  hardly  seemed  to  touch  the  earth,  and  Marga- 
ret, who  delighted  in  seeing  men  manly  and  strong  and 
fleet,  felt  her  heart  go  out  to  him  in  a  burst  of  enthusia^ 


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78 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


that  became  almost  oppressive  as  the  last  hurdle  was  ap- 
proached. 

There  were  now  only  two  men  ahead  of  him,  and 
Geoffrey  was  so  set  on  winning  that  it  seemed  with  him  to 
be  more  a  matter  of  mind  than  body.  A  yell  suddenly 
arose  from  all  sides.  One  of  the  two  first  men  struck  the 
last  hurdle  and  went  down,  and  Geoffrey,  shooting  far 
into  the  air  in  a  tremendous  leap  to  clear  the  flying  tim- 
ber, passed  the  other  man  in  the  last  arrow-like  rush,  and 
dashed  in  an  undoubted  winner. 

The  enthusiasm  for  him  was  now  unmingled.  The  sen- 
sation of  horror  that  many  had  felt  on  seeing  him  fall  head 
downward  during  the  race  had  given  way  to  a  keen  ad- 
miration for  his  plucky  attempt  to  catch  up  with  such 
hopeless  odds  against  him.  There  were  old  business 
men  present  whose  hearts  had  not  moved  so  briskly 
since  the  last  financial  panic  as  when  the  handicapped 
hero  in  azure  leaped  the  last  hurdle  into  glory.  There 
were  men  looking  on  whose  figures  would  never  be  re- 
deemed who,  at  the  moment,  felt  convinced  that  with  a 
little  training  they  could  once  more  run  a  good  race — men 
whose  livers  were  in  a  sad  state  and  who  certainly  forgot 
the  holy  inspiration  before  rising  that  night  from  their  late 
dinners.  Surely  if  these  old  stagers  could  be  thus  moved, 
feminine  hearts  might  be  excused.  It  was  not  necessary 
to  know  Geoffrey  personally  to  feel  the  contagious  thrill 
that  ran  through  the  multitude  at  the  vision  of  his  prowess. 
The  impulse  and  the  verdict  of  the  large  crowd  were  so 
unanimous  that  no  one  could  resist  them. 

As  for  Margaret,  she  was,  alas,  standing  on  the  seat  by 
the  time  he  raced  past  the  carriage — a  fair,  earnest  vision, 
lost  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment.  With  her  gloved 
hands  tightly  closed  and  her  arms  braced  as  if  for  running, 
she  appeared  from  her  attitude  as  if  she,  too,  would  join 
in^the  race  where  her  interest  lay.     The  true  woman  in  her 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


79 


was  wild  for  her  friend  to  win.  GeofTrey's  appearance  ap- 
pealed to  all  her  sense  of  the  beautiful.  Knowledge  of  art 
led  her  to  admire  him — art  of  the  ancient  and  vigorous  type. 
All  the  plaudits  that  moved  the  multitude  were  caught  up 
and  echoed  even  more  loudly  within  her.  It  was  a  dan- 
gerous moment  for  a  virgin  heart.  As  Geoffrey  managed 
to  land  himself  a  winner  against  such  desperate  odds,  she 
saw  in  his  face,  even  before  he  had  won,  a  half  supercili- 
ous look  of  triumph  and  mastery  that  she  had  never  seen 
there  before.  In  a  brief  moment  she  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  indomitable  will  that  with  him  knew  no  obstacles — a 
will  shown  in  a  face  of  the  ancient  type,  with  gleaming 
eyes  and  dilated  nostrils,  heroic,  god-like,  possibly  cruel, 
but  instinct  with  victory  and  resolve. 

To  her  the  triumph  was  undiluted.  At  the  close  of 
the  race  her  lungs  had  refused  to  work  until  he  passed  the 
winning  line,  and  then  her  breath  came  in  a  gasp,  as  she 
became  conscious  that  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  of 
sympathy. 

With  Nina  it  was  different.  That  she  was  intensely 
interested  is  true.  Everybody  was.  But,  instead  of  that 
whirl  of  sympathetic  admiration  which  Margaret  felt,  the 
strongest  feeling  she  had  was  a  desire  that  Geoffrey  would 
come  to  her  first,  would  lay,  as  it  were,  his  honors  at  her 
feet — a  wish  suggesting  the  complacency  with  which  the 
tigress  receives  the  victor  after  viewing  with  interest  the 
combat. 

When  Geoffrey  rejoined  them  half  an  hour  afterward 
he  was  endeavoring  to  conceal  an  unmistakable  lameness 
resulting  from  striking  the  hurdle  in  the  race.  He  had 
had  his  leg  bathed,  which  he  afterward  found  had  been 
bleeding  freely  during  the  run,  and  had  got  into  his  flan- 
nels again.  In  the  mean  time  a  small  circle  of  admirers 
had  grouped  themselves  about  the  Dusenalls*  carriage. 

Jack  had  been  in  to  see  them  for  a  moment  with  a 


■''» 


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80 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


I 


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hymn  of  praise  for  Geoffrey  on  his  lips,  but  Nina  made 
him  uncomfortable  by  treating  him  distantly,  and,  although 
Margaret  beamed  on  him,  he  departed  soon  after  Geof- 
frey's arrival,  making  an  excuse  of  his  committee-man's 
duties. 

Geoffrey  noticed  that,  on  his  reappearing  among  them, 
Margaret  did  not  address  him,  but  left  congratulations  to 
Nina  and  the  Dusenalls.  In  the  interval  after  the  race  she 
had  suddenly  begun  to  consider  how  great  her  interest  in 
Geoffrey  was.  She  had  known  him  for  over  a  year.  Dur- 
ing that  time  he  had  ever  appeared  at  his  best  before  her. 
It  was  so  natural  to  be  civilized  and  gentle  in  her  pres- 
ence. And  Margaret  was  not  devoid  of  romance,  in  spite 
of  her  prosaic  studies.  Her  ideality  was  not  checked  by 
them,  but  rather  diverted  into  less  ordinary  channels,  and 
she  wai  as  likely  as  anybody  else  to  be  captivated  by  some- 
body who,  besides  other  qualities,  could  form  a  subject 
for  her  imaginative  powers.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  this 
sometimes  dangerous  and  always  charming  ideality,  she 
had  acquired  the  habit  of  introspection  which  Mr.  Mack- 
intosh had  endeavored  to  cultivate  in  her.  He  told  her 
that  when  she  fell  in  love  she  "  would  certainly  know  it." 
And  it  was  the  remembrance  of  this  sage  remark  that  now 
caused  her  to  be  silent  and  thoughtful.  She  w^s  wonder- 
ing whether  she  was  going  to  fall  in  love  with  Geoffrey, 
and  what  it  would  be  like  if  she  did  do  so,  and  if  she  could 
know  any  more  interest  in  him  if  it  so  turned  out  that 
she  eventually  became  engaged  to  him.  Then  she  looked 
at  Geoffrey,  intending  to  be  impartial  and  judicial,  and 
thought  that  his  looks  were  not  unpleasing,  and  that  his 
banter  with  Miss  Dusenall  was  not  at  all  slow  to  listen  to. 
She  was  pleased  that  he  did  not  address  her  first.  She 
felt  that  she  might  have  been  in  some  way  embarrassed. 
Sometimes  he  glanced  at  her,  as  if  carelessly,  and  yet  she 
seemed  to  know  that  all  his  remarks  were  to  amuse  her. 


w 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


8l 


and  that  he  watched  her  without  looking  at  her.  She  had 
never  thought  of  his  doing  this  before. 

Bad  Margaret  !     Full  of  guilt ! 

Geoffrey  wa*:,  endeavoring  to  make  the  plainest  Miss 
Dusenall  fix  the  day  for  their  wedding,  declaring  that  it 
was  she  who  had  promised  to  marry  him  if  he  won  at  jump- 
ing with  the  pole,  and  that  she  alone  had  nerved  him  for  the 
struggle,  and  he  went  on  arranging  the  matter  with  a  vuiu- 
bilityand  assurance  which  she  would  have  resented  in  any- 
body else.  She  had  affected  to  belittle  Geoffrey  some- 
what, not  having  been  much  troubled  with  his  attentions, 
and  sht  was  conscious  now  that  this  banter  on  his  part 
was  detracting  from  her  dignity.  But  what  was  she  to 
do?  The  man  was  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and  ca;  jd  but 
little  for  her  dignity  and  mincing  ways.  She  would  have 
snubbed  him,  only  that  he  carried  all  the  company  n  his 
side,  and  a  would-be  snub,  when  one's  audience  does  not 
appreciate  it,  returns  upon  one's  self  with  boomerang  vio- 
lence. After  all,  it  was  something  to  monopolize  the  most 
admired  man  in  six  thousand  people,  even  if  he  did  make 
game  of  her  and  treat  her  like  a  child. 

As  for  Nina,  she  answered  feebly  the  desultory  re- 
marks of  several  young  men  who  hung  about  the  carriage, 
and  she  listened,  while  she  looked  at  the  contests,  to  one 
sound  only — to  the  sound  of  Geoffrey's  voice.  From  time 
to  time  she  put  in  a  word  to  the  other  girls  which  showed 
that  she  heard  everything  he  said.  This  sort  of  thing 
proved  unsatisfactory  to  the  young  men  who  sought  to  en- 
gage her  attention.  They  soon  moved  off,  and  then  she 
gave  herself  up  to  the  luxury  of  hearing  Geoffrey  speak, 
it  might  have  been,  she  thought,  that  all  his  gayety  was 
merely  to  attract  Margaret,  but  none  the  less  was  his 
voice  music  to  her.  Poor  Nina  !  She  would  not  look  at 
him,  for  fear  of  betraying  herself.     She  lay  back  in  the 

carriage  and  vainly  tried  to  think  of  her  duty  to  Jack. 
6 


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82 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


Then  she  thought  herself  overtempted,  not  remembering 
the  words  : 

The  devil  tempts  us  not — 'tis  we  tempt  him, 
Beckoning  his  skill  with  opportunity. 

This  meeting,  which  to  her  was  all  bitter-sweet,  to  Geof- 
frey was  piquant.  To  make  an  impression  on  the  woman 
he  really  respected  by  addressing  another  he  cared  noth- 
ing about  was  somev/hat  amusing  to  him,  but  to  know  that 
every  word  he  said  was  being  drunk  in  by  a  third  woman 
who  was  as  attractive  as  love  itself  and  who  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  another  man  added  a  flavor  to  the  en- 
tertainment which,  if  not  altogether  new,  seemed,  in  the 
present  case,  to  be  mildly  pungent. 
After  this  Nina  deceived  herself  less. 


» 
I 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

Come  o'er  the  sea, 

Maiden  with  me, 
Mine  through  sunshine,  storm,  and  snows. 

Seasons  may  roll, 

But  the  true  soul 
Burns  the  same  wherever  it  goes. 

Is  not  the  sea 

Made  for  the  free. 
Land  for  courts  and  chains  alone  ? 

Here  we  are  slaves ; 

But  on  the  waves 
Love  and  liberty's  all  our  own. 

Moore's  Melodies. 

Mr.  Maurice  Rankin  was  enjoying  his  summer  va- 
cation. Although  the  courts  were  closed  he  still  could  be 
seen  carrying  his  blue  bag  through  the  street  oa  his  way 
to  and  from  the  police  court  and  other  places.     It  is  true 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


83 


that,  for  ordinary  professional  use,  the  bag  might  have 
been  abandoned,  but  how  was  he  to  know  when  a  sprat 
might  catch  a  whale  ? — to  say  nothing  of  the  bag's  being  so 
convenient  for  the  secret  and  non-committal  transporta- 
tion of  those  various  and  delectable  viands  that  found  their 
way  to  his  aerial  abode  at  No.  173  Tremaine  Buildings. 
He  was  now  provided  by  the  law  printers  with  pamphlet 
copies  of  the  decisions  in  different  courts,  and  a  few  of 
these  might  always  be  found  in  his  bag.  They  served  to 
fill  out  to  the  proper  dimensions  this  badge  of  a  rank  en- 
titling him  to  the  affix  of  esquire,  and  they  had  been 
well  oiled  by  parcels  of  bv.tter  or  chops  which,  on  warm 
days,  tried  to  lubricate  this  dry  brain  food  as  if  for  greater 
rapidity  in  the  bolting  of  it. 

In  this  way  he  was  passing  his  summer  vacation. 
Many  a  time  he  thought  of  his  father's  wealth  before  his 
failure  and  death.  Where  had  those  thousands  melted 
away  to  ?  Oh,  for  just  one  of  the  thousands  to  set  him 
on  his  feet !  This  perpetual  grind,  this  endless  seeking 
for  work,  with  no  more  hope  in  it  than  to  be  able  to  get 
even  with  his  butcher's  bill  at  the  end  of  the  month ! 
To  see  every  person  else  go  away  for  an  outing  somewhere 
while  he  remained  behind  began  to  make  him  dispirited. 
The  buoyancy  of  his  nature,  which  at  first  could  take  all 
his  trials  as  a  joke,  was  beginning  to  wear  off.  After 
yielding  himself  to  their  peculiar  piquancy  for  six  months, 
these  jokes  seemed  to  have  lost  their  first  freshness,  and 
he  longed  to  get  away  somewhere  for  a  little  change.  The 
return,  then,  he  thought,  would  be  with  renewed  spirit. 

While  thinking  over  these  matters  his  step  homeward 
was  tired  and  slow.  He  was  by  no  means  robust,  and  his 
narrow  face  had  grown  more  hatchety  than  ever  in  the 
last  few  hot  days.  Hope  deferred  was  beginning  to  tell 
upon  him,  but  a  surprise  awaited  him. 

Jack  Cresswell  and  Charley  Dusenall  were  walking  at 


Hi,  '<  ,  m 

I 

» 


,1 


.3 


84 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


this  time  on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  They  sighted 
Rankin  going  along  gloomily,  with  his  nose  on  the  ground, 
well  dressed  and  neat  as  usual,  but  weighted  down,  ap- 
parently with  business,  really  with  loneliness,  law  reports, 
and  lamb-chops. 

They  both  pointed  to  him  at  once.  Jack  said,  "  The 
very  man!"  and  Charlie  said,  nodding  assent,  "Just  as 
good  as  the  next."  Jack  clapped  Charley  on  the  back — 
"  By  Jove,  I  hope  he  will  come  !  Do  him  all  the  good  in 
the  world." 

Charley  was  one  of  those  happy-go-lucky,  loose-living 
young  men  who  have  companions  as  long  as  their  money 
lasts,  and  who  seem  made  of  some  transmutable  material 
which,  when  all  things  are  favorable,  shows  some  sugges- 
tion of  solidity,  but,  when  acted  upon  by  the  acid  of  pov- 
erty, degenerates  into  something  like  that  parasitic  sub- 
stance remarkable  for  its  receptibility  of  liquids,  called  a 
sponge.  He  liked  Rankin,  although  he  thought  him  a 
queer  fish,  and  he  would  laugh  with  the  others  when  Ran- 
kin's quiet  satire  was  pointed  at  himself,  not  knowing  but 
that  there  might  be  a  joke  somewhere,  and  not  wishing  to 
be  out  of  it. 

The  two  young  men  crossed  the  road  and  walked  up 
to  Rankin  who  was  just  about  to  enter  Tremaine  Build- 
ings. Charlie  asked  him  to  come  on  a  yachting  cruise 
around  Lake  Ontario — to  be  ready  in  two  days — that 
Jack  would  tell  him  all  about  it,  as  he  was  in  a  hurry. 
He  then  made  off,  without  waiting  for  Maurice  to  reply. 

Jack  explained  to  Rankin  that  the  yacht  was  to  take 
out  a  party,  with  the  young  ladies  under  the  chaperonage 
of  Mrs.  Dusenall,  that  the  two  Misses  Dusenall,  and  Nina 
and  Margaret  were  going,  that  he  and  Geoffrey  Hamp- 
stead  and  two  or  three  of  the  yacht-club  men  would  lend  a 
hand  to  work  the  craft,  and  that  Rankin  would  be  re- 
quired to  take  the  helm  during  the  dead  calms.     As  Ran- 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


85 


a 
re- 
in- 


kin  listened  he  brightened  up  and  looked  along  the 
street  in  meditation. 

"  The  business,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "  will  perish. 
Bean  can't  run  my  business." 

His  large  mouth  spread  over  his  face  as  he  yielded 
himself  to  the  warmth  of  the  sunny  vista  before  him.  Al- 
ready he  felt  himself  dancing  over  the  waves.  Suddenly, 
as  they  stood  at  the  entrance  to  Tremaine  Buildings,  he 
caught  Jack  by  the  arm  and  whispered — so  that  clients 
thronging  the  streets  might  not  overhear  : 

"  The  business,"  he  whispered.  **  What  about  it  ? 
He  drew  off  at  arm's  length  and  transfixed  Jack  with  his 
eagle  eye.  Then,  as  if  to  typify  his  Jiudden  and  reckless 
abandonment  of  all  the  great  trusts  reposed  in  him,  he 
slung  the  blue  bag  as  far  as  he  could  up  the  stairs 
while  he  cried  that  the  business  might  "  go  to  the  devil." 

**  Correct,"  said  Jack.  "  It  will  be  all  safe  with  him. 
You  know  he  is  the  father  of  lawyers.  But  I  say,  old 
chap,  I  am  av.'fully  glad  you  are  coming  wiJi  us.  You 
see,  the  old  lady  has  to  get  those  girls  married  off  some- 
how, and  several  fellows  will  go  with  us  who  are  espe- 
cially picked  out  for  the  business.  Then,  of  course,  the 
Dusenall  girls  want  *  backing,'  and  they  thought  Nina  and  I 
could  certainly  give  them  a  lead.  And  Nina  would  not 
go  without  Margaret.  I  rather  think,  too,  that  Geoffrey 
would  not  go  without  Margaret.  Wheels  within  wheels, 
you  see.  Have  you  not  got  a  lady-love,  Morry,  to  bring 
along  ?  No  ?  Well,  I  tell  you,  old  man,  I  expect  to  en- 
joy myself.  I've  been  round  that  lake  a  good  many 
times,  but  never  with  Nina." 

Jack  blushed  as  he  admitted  so  much  to  his  old  friend, 
and  after  a  pause  he  went  on,  with  a  young  man's  facile 
change  of  thought,  to  talk  about  the  yacht. 

"And  we  will  just  make  her  dance,  and  don't  you 
forget  it." 


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86 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  won't  she  object  ?  " 

"  Object  ?  No — likes  it.  She  is  coming  out  in  a 
brand-new  suit.  Wait  till  you  see  her.  She'll  be  a 
dandy." 

'*  I  can  quite  believe  that  she  will  appear  more  beauti- 
ful than  ever,"  said  Maurice,  rather  mystified. 

"  She  is  as  clean  as  a  knife,  clean  as  a  knife.  I  tell 
you,  Morry,  her  shape  just  fills  the  eye.     She — " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  understand.  You  are  speaking  of  the 
yacht.  I  thought  when  you  said  you  would  make  her  dance 
that  you  referred  to  Miss  Lindon.  Excuse  my  ignorance 
of  yachting  terms.  I  know  absolutely  nothing  about 
them." 

"  Never  mind,  old  man,  you  might  easily  make  the 
mistake.  Talking  of  dancing  now,  I  had  a  turn  with  her 
the  other  day  and  I  will  say  this  much — that  she  can 
waltz  and  no  mistake.  You  could  steer  her  with  one 
finger," 

"  And  shall  we  rig  this  spinnaker  boom  on  her  ?  "  asked 
Rankin,  with  interest.  "  What  is  a  spinnaker  boom  ?  I 
have  always  wanted  to  know." 

"  Spinnaker  on  who  ?  or  what  ? "  cried  Jack,  looking 
vexed.     "  Don't  be  an  ass,  Rankin." 

"  My  dear  fellow — a  thousand  pardons — I  certainly 
presumed  you  still  spoke  of  the  yacht.  It  is  perfectly  im- 
possible to  understand  which  you  refer  to." 

"Well,  perhaps  it  is,"  replied  Jack;  ^I  mix  the  two 
up  in  my  speech  just  as  they  are  mixed  up  in  my  heart, 
and  I  love  them  both.  So  let  us  have  a  glass  of  sherry 
to  them  in  my  room." 

"  I  think,"  said  Rankin,  smiling,  vv'ith  his  head  on  one 
side,  "  that  to  prevent  further  confusion  we  ought  to  drink 
a  glass  to  each  love  separately,  in  order  to  discriminate 
sufficiently  between  the  different  interests." 

"  Happy  thought,"  said  Jack.     "  And   just   like  you 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


87 


robbers.  Every  interest  must  be  represented.  Fees  out 
of  the  estate,  every  time." 

After  gulping  down  the  first  glass  of  sherry  in  the 
American  fasKion,  they  sat  sipping  the  second  as  the 
Scotch  and  English  do.  It  struck  Rankin  as  peculiar  that 
Mr.  Lindon  allowed  Nina  to  go  off  on  this  yachting 
cruise  when  he  must  know  that  Jack  would  be  on  board. 
He  asked  him  how  he  accounted  for  his  luck  in  this 
respect. 

Jack  said  :  "  I  can  not  explain  it  altogether  to  myself. 
The  old  boy  sent  her  off  to  Europe  to  get  her  away  from 
me,  and  that  little  manoeuvre  was  not  successful  in  mak- 
ing her  forget  me.  I  think  that  now  he  has  washed  his 
hands  of  the  matter,  and  lets  her  do  entirely  as  she  pleases 
— except  as  to  matrimony.  They  don't  converse  together 
on  the  subject  of  your  humble  servant..  He  is  fond  of 
Nina  in  his  own  way — when  his  ambition  is  not  at  stake. 
One  thing  I  feel  sure  of,  that  we  might  wait  till  crack  of 
doom  before  his  consent  to  our  marriage  would  be  ob- 
tained. I  never  knew  such  a  man  for  sticking  to  his  own 
opinion." 

"  But  you  could  marry  now  and  keep  a  house,  in  a 
small  way,"  said  Rankin. 

"  Too  small  a  way  for  Nina.  She  knows  no  more  of 
economy  than  a  babe.  No ;  I  may  have  been  unwise, 
from  a  practical  view,  to  fall  in  love  with  her,  but  the  af- 
fair must  go  on  now ;  we  will  get  married  some  way  or 
other.  Perhaps  the  old  boy  will  die.  At  any  rate,  al- 
though I  have  no  doubt  she  would  go  in  for  Move  in  a 
cottage,'  I  don't  think  it  would  be  right  of  me  to  subject 
her  to  the  loss  of  her  carriage,  servants,  entertainments, 
and  gay  existence  generally.  Of  course  she  would  be 
brave  over  it,  but  the  effort  would  be  very  hard  upon  the 
dear  little  woman." 

When  Jack  thought  of  Nina  his  heart  was  apt  to  lose 


MH 


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88 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


some  of  its  chronometer  movement.  He  turned  and  began 
fumbling  for  his  pipe. 

Maurice  wished  to  pull  him  together,  as  it  were,  and 
said,  as  he  grasped  the  decanter  and  filled  the  wine  glasses 
again  : 

"Thank  you;  1  don't  mind  if  I  do.  Now  I  come  to 
think  of  it,  your  first  proposed  *^oast  was  the  right  one. 
For  the  next  three  weeks  at  least  we  do  not  intend  to 
separate  the  lady  from  the  yacht.  Why  should  we  drink 
them  separately  ?  Ho,  ho  !  we  will  drink  to  them  collect- 
ively !  "  He  waved  his  glass  in  the  air.  "  Here's  to  The 
Lady  and  the  Yacht  considered  as  one  indivisible  duo. 
May  they  be  forever  as  entwined  in  our  hearts  as  they  are 
incomprehensibly  mixed  up  in  our  language  !  " 

"  Hear,  hear!  "  cried  Jack,  with  renewed  spirit.  "  Drink 
hearty  !  "  And  then  he  energetically  poured  out  another, 
and  said  "  Tiger !  " — after  which  they  lit  cigars  and  went 
out,  feeling  happy  and  much  refreshed,  while  Rankin 
quite  forgot  the  blue  bag  and  the  contents  thereof  yielding 
rich  juices  to  the  law-reports  in  the  usual  way. 

About  ten  o'clock  on  the  following  Saturday  morning 
valises  were  being  stowed  away  on  board  the  yacht  Ideal, 
and  maidens  fair  and  sailors  free  were  aglow  with  the  ex- 
citement of  departure.  The  yacht  was  swinging  at  her 
anchor  while  the  new  cruising  mainsail  caused  her  to 
careen  gently  as  the  wind  alternately  caught  each  side  of 
the  snowy  canvas.  A  large  blue  ensign  at  the  peak  was 
flapping  in  the  breeze,  impatient  for  the  start,  while  the 
main-sheet  bound  down  and  fettered  the  plunging  and 
restless  sail.  Lounging  about  the  bows  of  the  vessel  were 
a  number  of  professional  sailors  with  Ideal  worked  across 
the  breasts  of  their  stout  blue  jerseys.  The  headsails 
were  loosed  and  ready  to  go  up,  and  the  patent  windlass 
was  cleared  to  wind  up  the  anchor  chain.  Away  aloft  at 
the  topmast  head  the  blue  peter  was  promising  more  ad- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


89 


,ji* 


!1 


ventures  and  a  new  enterprise,  while  grouped  about  the 
cockpit  were  our  friends  in  varied  garb,  some  of  whom 
nervously  regarded  the  plunging  mainsail  which  refused 
to  be  quieted.  Rankin  was  the  last  to  come  over  the 
side,  clad  in  a  dark-blue  serge  suit,  provided  at  short 
notice  by  the  long-suffering  Score.  His  leather  portman- 
teau, lent  by  Jack,  had  scarcely  reached  the  deck  before 
the  blocks  were  hooked  on  and  the  gig  was  hoisted  in  to 
the  davits.  Margaret,  sitting  on  the  bulwarks,  with  an 
arm  thrown  round  a  backstay  to  steady  her,  was  taking 
in  all  the  preparations  with  quiet  ecstasy,  her  eyes  follow- 
ing every  movement  aloft  and  her  lips  softly  parted  with 
sense  of  invading  pleasure. 

Mrs.  Dusenall  was  down  in  the  after-cabin  making 
herself  more  busy  than  useful.  Instead  of  leaving  every- 
thing to  the  steward,  the  good  woman  was  unpacking  sev- 
eral baskets  which  had  found  their  way  aft  by  mistake. 
In  a  very  clean  locker  devoted  solely  to  charts  she  stowed 
away  five  or  six  pies,  wedging  them,  thoughtfully,  with  a 
sweet  melon  to  keep  them  quiet.  Then  she  found  that 
the  seats  at  the  side  could  be  raised,  and  here  she  placed 
a  number  of  articles  where  they  stood  a  good  chance  of 
slipping  under  the  floor  and  never  being  seen  again.  For- 
tunately for  the  party,  her  pride  in  her  work  led  her  to 
point  out  what  she  had  done  to  the  steward,  who,  speech- 
less with  dismay,  hastily  removed  everything  eatable  from 
her  reach. 

As  the  anchor  left  its  weedy  bed,  the  brass  carronade 
split  the  air  in  salute  to  the  club  and  the  blue  ensign 
dipped  also,  while  the  headsail  clanked  and  rattled  up 
the  stay.  There  was  nobody  at  the  club  house,  but 
the  ladies  thought  that  the  ceremony  of  departure  was 
effective. 

Jack  was  at  the  wheel  as  she  paid  off  on  the  starboard 
tack  toward  the  eastern  channel,  and  Geoffrey  and  others 


M 
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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


were  slacking  off  the  main-sheet  when  Rankin  heard  him- 
self called  by  Jack,  who  said  hurriedly  : 

"  Morry,  will  you  let  go  that  lee-backstay  ? " 

Maurice  and  Margaret  left  it  immediately  and  stood 
aside.  Jack  forgot,  in  the  hurry  of  starting,  that  Rankin 
knew  nothing  of  sailing,  and  called  louder  to  him  again, 
pointing  to  the  particular  rope  :  "  Let  go  that  lee-back- 
stay." 

**  Who's  touching  your  lec-backstay  ? "  cried  Morry  in- 
dignantly. 

The  boom  was  now  pressing  strongly  on  the  stay, 
while  Jack,  seeing  his  mistake,  leaned  over  and  showed 
Rankin  what  to  do.  He  at  once  cast  off  the  rope  from 
the  cleat,  and,  there  being  a  great  strain  on  it,  the  end  of 
it  when  loosed  flew  through  his  fingers  so  fast  that  it  felt 
as  if  red  hot. 

"  Holy  Moses ! "  cried  he,  blowing  on  his  fingers, 
"that  rope  must  have  been  lying  on  the  stove."  He  ex- 
amined the  rope  again,  and  remarked  that  it  was  quite 
cool  now.  The  pretended  innocence  of  the  little  man 
was  deceiving.  The  Honorable  Marcus  Travers  Head, 
one  of  the  rich  intended  victims  of  the  Dusenalls,  leaned 
over  to  Jack  and  asked  who  and  what  Rankin  was. 

"  He's  an  original — that's  what  he  is,"  said  Jack,  with 
some  pride  in  his  friend,  although  Rankin's  by-play  was 
really  very  old. 

"  What !  ain't  he  soft  ?  "  inquired  the  Hon.  M.  T.,  with 
surprise. 

"  About  as  soft  as  that  brass  cleat,"  said  Jack  shortly. 
"  I  say,  old  Emptyhead,  you  just  keep  your  eye  open 
when  he's  around  and  you'll  learn  something." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  "  Ba-a  Jeuve !  "  and  the  honor- 
able gentleman  regarded  Rankin  in  a  new  light. 

The  Ideal  was  a  sloop  of  more  than  ordinary  size, 
drawing  about  eight  feet  of  water  without  the  small  center- 


;ir 


ze, 
er- 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


91 


board,  which  she  hardly  required  for  ordinary  sailing.  Her 
accommodations  were  excellent,  and  her  internal  fittings 
were  elegant,  without  being  so  wildly  expensive  as  in  some 
of  the  American  vachts.  Her  comparatively  small  draught 
of  water  enabled  her  to  enter  the  shallow  ports  on  the  lakes, 
and  yet  she  was  modeled  somewhat  like  a  deep-draught 
boat,  having  some  of  her  ballast  bolted  to  her  keel,  like  the 
English  yachts.  Her  cruising  canvas  was  bent  on  short 
spars,  which  relieved  the  crew  in  working  her,  but,  even 
with  this  reduction,  her  spread  of  canvas  was  very  large, 
so  that  her  passage  across  the  bay  toward  the  lake  was  one 
of  short  duration. 

To  Margaret  and  Maurice  the  spirited  start  which  they 
made  was  one  of  unalloyed  delight.  For  two  such  fresh 
souls  "  delight "  is  quite  the  proper  word.  They  crossed 
over  to  the  weather  side  and  sat  on  the  bulwarks,  where 
they  could  command  a  view  of  the  whole  boat.  It  was  a 
treat  for  all  hands  to  see  their  bright  faces  watching  the  man 
aloft  cast  loose  the  working  gaff-topsail.  When  they  heard 
his  voice  in  the  sky  calling  out  "  Hoist  away,"  Morry 
waved  his  hand  with  abandon  and  called  out  also  "  Hoist 
away,"  as  if  he  would  hoist  away  and  overboard  every  care 
he  knew  of,  and  when  the  booming  voice  aloft  cried 
"  Sheet  home,"  it  was  as  good  as  five  dollars  to  see  Mar- 
garet echo  the  word  with  commanding  gesture — only  she 
called  it  "  Sea  foam,"  which  made  the  sailors  turn  their 
quids  and  snicker  quietly  among  themselves.  But  when 
the  huge  cream-colored  jib-topsail  went  creaking  musically 
up  from  the  bowsprit-end,  filling  and  bellying  and  thun- 
dering away  to  leeward,  and  growing  larger  and  larger  as 
it  climbed  to  the  topmast  head,  their  admiration  knew  no 
bounds.  As  the  sail  was  trimmed  down,  they  felt  the 
good  ship  get  her  "  second  wind,"  as  it  were,  for  the  rush 
out  of  the  bay.  It  was  as  if  sixteen  galloping  horses  had 
been  suddenly  harnessed  to  the  boat,  and  Margaret  fairly 


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Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


92 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


p. 


clapped    her   hands.      Maurice   called   to   Jack   approv- 
ingly : 

"  You  said  you  would  make  her  dance." 
"  She's  going  like  a  scalded  pup,"  cyied  Jack  poeti- 
cally in  reply,  and  he  held  her  down  to  it  with  the  wheel, 
tenderly  but  firmly,  as  he  thereby  felt  the  boat's  pulse. 
When  they  came  to  the  eastern  channel  Jack  eased  her  up 
so  close  to  the  end  of  the  pier  that  Maurice  involuntarily 
retreated  from  the  bulwarks  for  fear  she  would  hit  the  cor- 
ner. The  jib-topsail  commenced  to  thunder  as  the  yacht 
came  nearer  the  wind,  but  this  was  soon  silenced,  and  half 
a  dozen  men  on  the  main-sheet  flattened  in  the  after-can- 
vas as  she  passed  between  the  crib-work  at  the  sides  of 
the  channel  in  a  way  that  gave  one  a  fair  opportunity  for 
judging  her  speed. 

A  moment  more  and  the  Ideal  was  surging  along  the 
lake  swells,  as  if  she  intended  to  arrive  "  on  time  "  at  any 
place  they  pointed  her  for.  The  main-sheet  was  paid  out 
as  Jack  bore  away  to  take  the  compass  course  for  Cobourg. 
This  put  the  yacht  nearly  dead  before  the  wind,  and  the 
pace  seemed  to  moderate.  Charlie  Dusenall  then  came 
on  deck,  after  settling  his  dunnage  below  and  getting  into 
his  sailing  clothes.  Charlie  had  been  "  making  a  night  of 
it"  previous  to  starting,  and  felt  this  morning  indisposed 
to  exert  himself.  Jack  and  he  had  cruised  together  in  all 
weathers,  and  they  were  both  good  enough  sailors  to  dis- 
pense with  pig-headed  sailing-masters.  Jack  had  sailed 
everything,  from  a  birch-bark  canoe  to  a  schooner  of 
two  hundred  tons,  and  had  never  lost  his  liking  for  a  good 
deal  of  hard  work  on  board  a  boat.  As  for  his  garb,  an 
old  flannel  shirt  and  trousers  that  greased  masts  could  not 
spoil  were  all  that  either  he  or  Charlie  ever  wore.  These, 
with  the  yachting  shoes,  broad  Scotch  bonnet,  belt,  and 
sheath-knife,  were  found  sufficient,  without  any  finical 
white  jackets  and  blue  anchors,  and,  if  not  so  fresh  as 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


93 


they  might  have  been,  these  garments  certainly  looked  like 
business. 

Before  young  Dusenall  put  his  head  up  the  companion- 
way  he  knew  exactly  where  the  boat  was  by  noticing  her 
motions  while  below.  There  was  something  of  the  "  old 
salt  "  in  the  way  he  understood  how  the  yacht  was  run- 
ning without  coming  on  deck  to  find  out.  Generally  he 
could  wake  up  at  night  and  tell  you  how  the  boat  was 
sailing,  and  almost  what  canvas  she  was  carrying,  without 
getting  out  of  his  berth.  These  things  had  become  a  sort 
of  second  nature. 

He  was  yawning  as  he  hauled  on  a  stout  chain  and 
dragged  up  from  his  trousers  pocket  a  silver  watch  about 
the  size  of  a  mud-turtle.  Then  he  looked  at  the  wake 
through  the  long  following  waves  and  glanced  rapidly  over 
the  western  horizon  while  he  counted  with  his  finger  upon 
the  face  of  the  enormous  timepiece.  "  We  will  have  to  do 
better  than  this,"  he  said,  afcer  making  a  calculation,  "if 
we  wish  to  dance  at  the  Arlington  to-night." 

**  They  are  just  getting  the  spinnaker  on  deck,"  said 
Jack,  nodding  toward  the  bows.  "  As  you  say,  it  won't 
do  her  any  harm.  This  breeze  will  flatten  out  at  sun- 
down, and  walloping  about  in  a  dead  calm  all  night  is  no 
fun." 

"  What  a  time  they  take  to  get  a  sail  set !  "  said  Charlie 
impatiently,  as  he  looked  at  the  sailors  for  a  few  moments. 
"  I  have  a  good  mind  to  ask  some  of  you  fellows  to  go  for- 
ward and  show  them  how." 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Jack,  "  We  are  not  racing, 
and  hurrying  them  only  makes  them  sulky." 

But  Charlie's  nerves  were  a  little  irritable  to-day,  and 
he  swung  himself  on  deck  and  went  forward.  A  long 
boom  was  lowered  out  over  the  side  and  properly  guyed ; 
then  a  long  line  of  sail,  tied  in  stops,  went  up  and  up  to 
the  topmast-head  ;  the  foot  of  it  was  hauled  out  to  the 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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end  of  the  boom  ;  then  there  was  a  pull  on  a  rope,  and,  as 
the  wind  broke  away  the  stops,  hundreds  of  yards  of  sail 
spread  out  as  if  by  magic  to  the  breeze,  filling  away  for- 
ward like  a  huge  three-cornered  balloon,  the  foot  of  which 
almost  swept  the  surface  of  the  water. 

"Look  at  that  for  a  sail,  Nina."  said  Jack.  "Now 
you'll  see  her  git  right  up  and  git." 

When  Jack  was  talking  about  yachts  or  sailing  it  was 
next  to  impossible  foi  him  to  speak  in  anything  but  a 
jargon  of  energetic  slang  and  metaphor  picked  up  among 
the  sailors,  who,  in  their  turn,  picked  up  all  they  could 
while  ashore.  He  seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  throwing 
the  English  grammar  overboard.  His  heart  warmed  to 
sailors.  He  was  fond  of  their  oddities  and  forcible  un- 
polished similes  ;  and  when  he  sometimes  sought  their  so- 
society  for  a  while,  he  was  well  received.  When  a  man  in 
good  clothes  begins  to  talk  sailing  grammatically  to  lake- 
sailors  they  seem  to  feel  that  he  is  not,  as  far  as  they  can 
see,  in  any  way  up  to  the  mark.  His  want  of  accuracy  in 
sailing  vernacular  attaches  to  his  whole  character. 

If  Jack  intended  to  say  that  the  spinnaker  would  make 
the  Ideal  go  fast,  he  was  right.  She  was  traveling  down 
the  lake  almost  as  fast  as  she  would  go  in  a  race  with  the 
same  breeze.  A  long  thin  line  of  fine  white  bubbles  ex- 
tending back  over  the  tops  of  several  blue  waves  showed 
where  her  keel  had  divided  the  water  and  rubbed  it  into 
white  powder  as  she  passed.  Jack  had  no  time  for  con- 
tinued conversation  now.  He  had  to  watch  his  compass 
and  the  sails,  the  wind,  and  the  land.  He  did  not  wish  the 
wake  behind  the  vessel  to  look  like  a  snake-fence  from  bad 
steering,  and  to  get  either  of  the  sails  aback,  while  under 
such  a  pressure,  would  be  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish.  He  was 
enjoying  himself.  Some  good  Samaritan  handed  him  a 
pipe  filled  and  lighted,  and  with  his  leg  slung  comfort- 
ably over  the  shaft  of  the  wheel,  his  pipe  going,  Nina  in 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


95 


front  of  him,  and  all  his  friends  around  him,  he  felt  that 
the  moment  could  hardly  be  improved. 

Some  time  after  the  buildings  of  Toronto  had  dwin- 
dled away  to  nothing,  and  the  thin  spire  of  St.  James's 
Cathedral  had  become  a  memory,  the  steward  announced 
that  luncheon  was  ready.  One  of  the  hands  relieved 
Jack  at  the  wheel,  and  all  went  below  except  Mrs.  Duse- 
nall,  who  was  left  lying  among  cushions  and  pillows  ar- 
ranged comfortably  on  deck,  where  she  preferred  to  re- 
main, as  she  was  feeling  the  motion  of  the  boat. 

Luncheon  was  a  movable  feast  on  the  Ideal — as  liable 
to  be  shifted  about  as  'the  hands  of  a  wayward  clock. 
The  cabin  v/as  prettily  decorated  with  flowers,  and  the 
table,  weighted  so  as  to  remain  always  horizontal,  was 
covered  with  snowy  linen  and  delicate  glass,  while  a  small 
conceit  full  of  cut  flowers  faced  each  of  the  guests.  The 
steward  and  stewardess  buzzed  about  with  bottles  and 
plates,  and  any  appetite  that  could  not  have  been  tempted 
must  have  been  in  a  bad  way.  The  absence  of  that  apol- 
ogy for  a  chaperon,  who  was  trying  to  enjoy  the  breezes 
overhead,  gave  the  repast  an  informality  which  the  prim- 
ness of  the  Misses  Dusenall  soon  failed  to  check,  although 
at  first  their  precise  intonations  and  carefully  copied  Eng- 
lish accent  did  something  to  restrain  undue  hilarity  on  the 
part  of  those  who  did  not  know  them  well. 

The  idea  of  being  able  to  entertain  in  this  style  gave 
the  Misses  Dusenall  an  inflation  which  at  first  showed 
itself  in  a  conversation  and  manner  touchingly  English. 
The  average  English  maiden,  though  by  nature  sufficiently 
insular  in  manner  and  speech,  is  taught  to  be  more  so. 
The  result  is  that  among  strangers  she  rarely  seems  quite 
certain  of  herself,  as  if  anxious  lest  she  should  wreck  her- 
self on  a  slip  of  the  tongue  or  the  sounding  of  a  false 
note.  Her  prudish  manners  and  her  perfect  knowledge 
of  what  not  to  say  often  suggest  Swift's  definition  of  "  a 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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nice  man."  One  trembles  to  think  what  effect  the  eman- 
cipation of  marriage  will  have  upon  some  of  these  wildly 
innocent  creatures.  In  Canada,  and  especially  in  the 
United  States,  we  are  thankful  to  take  some  things  for 
granted,  without  the  advertisement  of  a  manner  which 
seems  to  say :  **  I  am  so  awfully  pure  and  carefully  brought 
up,  don't  you  know." 

The  Misses  Dusenall  on  this  occasion  soon  found 
themselves  in  a  minority  (not  the  minority  of  Matthew 
Arnold),  and  before  leaving  the  table  they  adopted  some 
of  that  more  genial  manner  and  speech  which,  if  slightly 
faulty,  we  are  satisfied  to  consider  as  "  good  enough  for 
the  colonies." 

Maurice  seemed  to  expand  as  the  English  fog  gradu- 
ally lifted.  The  aged  appearance  that  anxiety  was  giving 
him  had  disappeared.  Amid  the  chatter  going  on,  in 
which  it  was  difficult  to  get  an  innings.  Jack  Cresswell 
seized  a  bottle  of  claret  and  called  out  that  he  proposed  a 
toast. 

"  What  ?  toasts  at  such  an  informal  luncheon  as  this, 
Jack  ? "  exclaimed  Propriety,  with  the  accent  somewhat 
worn  off. 

"What's  the  odds  as  long  as  you're  happy  and  the 
*  rosy  '  is  close  at  hand  ? "  said  Jack.  "  Besides,  this  is  a 
case  of  necessity — " 

**  I  propose  that  we  have  a  series  of  toasts,"  interrupted 
Charlie,  who  was  beginning  to  feei  himself  again. 

"With  all  their  necessary  subdivisions,"  added  Ran- 
kin, in  his  incisive  little  voice,  which  could  alwajs  make 
itself  heard. 

"  There  you  are  again,  Rankin,"  cried  Jack.  "  I  pro- 
posed a  toast  with  Rankin  two  days  ago,  ladies,  and,  as  I 
live  by  bread,  he  subdivided  it  sixteen  times." 

Dusenall  was  calling  for  a  bottle  of  Seltzer  water. 

"  Never  mind  your  soda,"  commanded  Jack.     "  Soda 


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GEOFFREY   HAMFSTEAD. 


97 


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can't  do  justice  to  this  toast.  J  propose  this  toast  because 
I  regard  it  as  one  of  absolute  necessity — " 

"  They  all  are,"  called  Maurice. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  must  protest  against  my  learned  friend's 
interrup — " 

*'  Go  on.  Jack.  Don't  protest.  Propose.  I  am  getting 
thirsty,"  cried  Hampstead's  voice  among  a  number  of  others. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  am  I  to  proceed  or  not  ?  Have  I 
the  floor,  or  not  ?  " 

*'  That's  just  what  he  said  after  those  sixteen  horns," 
said  Rankin,  addressing  the  party  confidentially.  *'  Only^ 
then  he  did  not  *  have  the  floor,'  the  floor  had  him." 

His  absurdity  increased  the  hubbub,  as  Jack  rapped  on 
the  table  to  command  attention. 

"  The  toast  I  am  about  to  propose  is  one  of  absolute 
neces — " 

"  Oh,  my  !  "  groaned  Rankin,  "  give  me  something  in 
the  mean  time."  He  grasped  a  bottle,  as  if  in  desperation. 
**  All  right,  now.     Go  on,  Jack.     Don't  mind  me." 

The  orator  went  on,  smiling  : 

"  It  is,  as  I  ihink  I  have  said  before,  one  of  absolute — " 

Here  the  disturbance  threatened  to  put  an  end  to  the 
proposed  toast. 

"  Take  a  new  deal." 

"  Got  any  more  toasts  like  this  ? " 

**  Oh,  I  would  like  a  smoke  soon.     Hurry  up.  Jack." 

**  Well,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Jack,  banging  on 
the  table  to  quell  the  tumult ;  "  I  will  skip  over  the  ob- 
jectionable words,  and  propose  that  we  drink  to  the  health 
of  one  who  has  been  unable  to  be  with  us  to-day,  and  who 
needs  our  assistance ;  who  perhaps  at  this  moment  is  suf- 
fering untold  troubles  far  from  our  midst.  Ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, have  you  charged  your  glasses  ?  " 

Answers  of  "  Frequently.*- 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Jack,  as  he  stood  with  a  bottle  in 
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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


one  hand  and  a  glass  in  the  other,  "  I  ask  you  to  drink 
with  me  to  the  health  of  *  The  Chaperon/  who  is  nigh 
unto  death." 

All  stood  up,  and  were  loudly  echoing,  "The  Giaperon 
— nigh  unto  death  !  "  when  a  long  hand  came  down  the  sky- 
light overhead  and  a  voice  was  heard  from  on  high,  saying  : 

'*  Nothing  of  the  kind.  Kow  dare  you,  you  bad  boy  ? 
Just  put  something  into  my  hand  and  I'll  drink  my  own 
health.     I  don't  need  your  assistance  at  all." 

Cheers  broke  out  from  the  noisy  gathering,  and  they 
all  rushed  on  deck  to  see  Mrs.  Dusenall  drink  her  own 
health,  which  she  bravely  accomplished. 

They  were  a  riotous  lot.  All  the  boat  wanted  was  a 
policeman  to  keep  them  in  something  more  like  order,  for 
a  small  joke  received  too  much  credit  with  them,  and  they 
laughed  too  easily. 

Frenchman's  Bay  and  Whitby  were  passed  before  they 
came  up  from  lunch.  Oshawa  could  be  seen  far  away  on 
the  shore,  as  the  yacht  buzzed  along  with  unabated  speed. 
A  speck  on  the  horizon  had  risen  up  out  of  the  sea  to  be 
called  Raby  Head — the  sand-bluff  near  Darlington.  Small 
yellow  and  green  squares  on  the  far-oif  brown  uplands  that 
rolled  back  from  the  shores  denoted  that  there  were  farms 
in  that  vicinity ;  dark -blue  spots,  like  feathery  tufts,  ap- 
peared here  and  there  where  the  timber  forests  had  been 
left  untouched,  and  among  them  small  marks  or  lines  of 
white  would  occasionally  appear  where,  on  looking  through 
the  glasses,  little  railway  trains  seemed  to  be  toiling  like 
ants  across  the  landscape. 

There  was  no  ceremony  to  be  observed,  nor  could  it 
be  seen  that  anybody  endeavored  to  keep  up  conversations 
which  required  any  effort.  The  men,  lounging  about  on 
the  white  decks,  seemed  to  smoke  incessantly  while  they 
watched  the  water  hissing  along  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  or 
lay  on  their  backs  and  watched  the  masthead  racing  with 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


99 


the  white  clouds  down  the  lake,  and  the  girls,  disposed 
on  cushions,  tried  to  read  novels  and  failed.  The  sudden 
change  to  the  fresh  breezes  of  the  lake,  and  the  long  but 
spirited  rise  and  fall  of  the  vessel  made  them  soon  doze 
away,  or  else  remain  in  that  peaceful  state  of  mind  which 
does  not  require  books  or  masculine  society  or'  music,  or 
anything  else  except  a  continuation  of  things  just  as  they 
are.  Granby  and  Newcastle  were  mentioned  as  the  yacht 
passed  by,  but  most  of  the  party  were  drowsy,  and  few  even 
raised  their  heads  to  see  what  little  could  be  seen.  Port 
Hope  created  but  feeble  interest,  though  the  Gull  Light, 
perched  on  the  rocks  far  out  in  the  lake,  appeared  ro- 
mantic and  picturesque.  It  seemed  like  true  yachting 
to  be  approaching  a  strange  light-house  sitting  like  a 
white  seabird  on  the  dangerous-looking  reefs,  where  the 
waves  could  be  seen  dashing  up  white  and  frothy. 

Somewhere  off  Port  Hope,  about  three  or  four  miles 
away  from  the  "  Gull,"  one  of  the  sailors  had  quietly  re- 
marked to  the  man  at  the  wheel : 

"  We're  a-goin'  to  run  out  of  the  wind." 

Margaret  was  interested  in  this,  wondering  how  the 
man  knew.  Far  away  in  front  and  to  the  eastward  could 
be  seen  a  white  haze  that  obliterated  the  horizon,  and,  as 
the  yacht  bore  down  to  the  Gull  Light,  one  could  see  that 
beyond  a  certain  defined  line  stretching  across  the  lake 
the  bright  sparkle  and  blueness  of  the  waves  ceased,  and, 
beyond,  was  a  white  heaving  surface  of  water,  without  a 
ripple  on  it  to  mark  one  distance  from  another.  It  seemed 
strange  that  the  wind  blowing  so  freshly  directly  toward 
this  calm  portion  of  the  lake  should  not  ruffle  it.  The 
yacht  went  straight  on  before  the  wind  at  the  same  pace 
till  she  crossed  the  dividing  line  and  passed  with  her  own 
velocity  into  the  dead  air  on  the  other  side.  The  sails, 
out  like  wings,  seemed  at  once  to  fill  on  the  wrong  side, 
as  if  the  breeze  had  come  ahead,  and  this  stopped  her 


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headway.  She  soon  came  to  a  standstill.  Every  person 
at  once  awoke — feeling  some  of  that  numbness  experienced 
in  railway  trains  when,  after  running  forty  miles  an  hour 
for  some  time,  the  brakes  are  suddenly  put  on. 

For  half  an  hour  the  yacht  lay  within  pistol-shot  of  the 
dancing,  sparkling  waves,  where  the  breeze  blew  straight 
•  toward  them,  as  far  as  the  mysterious  dividing  line,  and 
then  disappeared.  The  spinnaker  was  taken  in,  and  the 
yacht,  regardless  of  the  helm,  "  walloped  "  about  in  all 
directions,  as  the  swells,  swashing  against  the  bow,  or 
pounding  under  the  counter,  turned  her  around.  This 
was  unpleasant,  and  might  last  all  night,  if  "the  calm  beat 
back  the  wind,"  as  the  sailors  say,  so  Charley  sent  out  the 
crew  in  the  two  boats,  which  were  lowered. from  the  davits, 
to  tow  the  yacht  into  Cobourg,  now  about  three  miles 
away.  The  mainsheet  was  hauled  flat  aft  to  keep  the  main- 
boom  quiet,  and  soon  she  had  steerp're  way  on. 

To  insure  fine  weather  at  home  one  must  take  out  an 
umbrella  and  a  water-proof.  On  the  water,  for  a  dead 
calm,  sending  the  boats  out  to  tow  the  yacht  is  as  good  as 
a  patent  medicine.  Before  very  long  the  topsail  seemed 
to  have  an  inclination  to  fill  on  one  side  more  than  on  the 
other,  so  one  boat  was  ordered  back  and  a  club-gaff-top- 
saii  used  in  races  was  sent  aloft  to  catch  the  breath  mov- 
ing in  the  upper  air.  This  sail  had  huge  spars  on  it  that 
set  a  sail  reaching  a  good  twenty-five  feet  above  the  top- 
mast head,  and  about  the  same  distance  out  from  the  end 
of  the  gaff.  It  was  no  child's-play  getting  it  up,  and  the 
sailors*  chorus  as  they  took  each  haul  at  the  halyards  at- 
tracted some  attention.  Perhaps  no  amateur  can  quite 
successfully  give  that  break  in  the  voice  peculiar  to  a  pro- 
fessional sailor  when  hauling  heavily  on  a  rope.  And 
then  the  interjections  : 

"0-ho!     H'isterup," 

"  Oh-ho !     Up  she  goes," 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD.- 


lOI 


"  0-ho  !     R-Raise  the  dead," 

**  Now-then-all-together-and-carry-  away-  the-  mast,  O- 
ho  ! "  etc. 

Some  especial  touches  were  put  on  to-day  for  the 
benefit  of  the  ladies,  and  when  the  man  aloft  wished 
those  on  deck  to  "  sheet  home  "  the  big  topsail,  the  rascal 
looked  down  at  Margaret  and  called  "  sea  foam  !  "  In 
the  forecastle  she  was  called  "  Sea  Foam "  during  the 
whole  trip,  not  because  she  wore  a  dress  of  cricketing 
flannel,  but  on  account  of  her  former  mistake  in  the 
words.  To  Rankin  and  some  others  who  saw  the  little 
joke,  the  idea  seemed  poetical  and  appropriate. 

Not  more  than  a  breath  of  wind  moved  aloft — none  at 
all  below — but  it  proved  sufficient  to  send  the  yacht  along, 
and  about  half-past  six  in  the  evening  they  slipped  in  to 
an  anchor  at  Cobourg,  fired  a  gun,  and  had  dinner. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Ah,  what  pleasant  visions  haunt  me 

As  I  gaze  upon  the  sea  I 
All  the  old  romantic  legends, 

All  my  dreams,  come  back  to  me. 

Sails  of  silk  and  ropes  of  sendal, 

Such  as  gleam  in  ancient  lore ; 
And  the  singing  of  the  sailors, 

And  the  answer  from  the  shore. 

Till  my  soul  is  full  of  longing 

For  the  secret  of  the  sea, 
And  the  heart  of  the  great  ocean 

Sends  a  thrilling  pulse  through  me. 

Longfellow. 


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Nothing  tends  to  convince  us  of  the  element  of  chance 
in  our  lives  more  than  noticing  the  consequences  of  whims. 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


We  act  and  react  upon  each  other,  after  joining  in  a  move- 
ment, till  its  origin  is  forgotten  arc!  lost.  A  politician 
conceives  a  whim  to  dazzle  a  fighting  people  with  a  war, 
and  the  circumstances  of  thousands  are  unexpectedly  and 
irretrievably  altered.  We  map  out  our  lives  for  ourselves, 
and  propose  to  adhere  to  the  chart,  but  on  considering 
the  effects  of  chance,  le's  life  often  seems  like  an  island 
upheaved  from  the  sea,  on  which  the  soil,  according  to  its 
character,  fructifies  or  refuses  the  seeds  that  birds  and 
breezes  accidentally  bring. 

Our  yachting  cruise  seemed  to  be  like  this.  One  even- 
ing when  Nina  was  dining  at  the  Dusenalls',  Charley 
had  proposed  the  trip  in  an  idle  sort  of  way.  Nina 
fastened  on  the  idea,  and  during  little  talks  with  Mrs. 
Dusenall,  induced  her  to  see  that  it  might  be  advan- 
tageous for  her  daughters  to  make  a  reality  of  the  vague 
proposal. 

In  thus  providing  opportunity  for  sweet  temptation, 
Nina  was  not  deceiving  herself  so  much  as  formerly,  and 
she  knew  that  her  feeling  for  Geoffrey  was  deep  and  strong. 
But  she  would  morally  bind  herself  to  the  rigging  and 
sail  on  without  trouble  while  she  listened  to  the  song  as 
well.  Would  not  Jack  be  with  her  always  to  serve  as  a 
safeguard  ?  Dear  Jack  !  So  fond  of  Jack !  Of  course 
it  would  be  all  right.  And  then,  to  be  with  Geoffrey  all 
the  time  for  two  or  three  weeks !  or,  if  not  with  him,  near 
enough  to  hear  his  voice  !  After  all,  she  could  not  be 
any  fnore  in  love  with  him  than  she  was  then.  Where 
was  the  harm  ? 

Margaret's  presence  on  the  yacht,  if  at  times  rather 
trying,  would  certainly  make  an  opening  for  excitement, 
and,  on  the  whole,  it  would  be  more  comfortable  to  have 
both  Geoffrey  and  Margaret  on  the  yacht  than  to  leave 
them  in  Toronto  together.  This  friendship  between 
them — what   did   it   amount   to  ?    She   had   a   desire  to 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


103 


know  all  about  it — as  we  painfully  pull  the  cot  off  a  hurt 
finger,  just  to  see  how  it  looks. 

For  Geoffrey  the  trip  promised  to  be  interesting,  and, 
having  in  the  early  days  examined  Cupid's  armory  with 
some  curiosity,  he  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  the  archer's 
shafts  were  for  him  neither  very  keen  nor  very  formida- 
ble. As  Davidge  used  to  say,  "  too  much  familiarity 
breeds  despisery,"  and  up  to  this  time  of  his  life  it  had 
not  seemed  possible  for  him  to  care  for  any  one  very  de- 
votedly— not  even  himself.  Yet  Margaret  Mackintosh,  he 
thought,  was  the  one  woman  who  could  be  permanently 
trusted  with  his  precious  future.  No  one  less  valuable 
could  be  the  making  of  him.  He  agreed  with  the 
Frenchman  in  saying  that  "of  all  heavy  bodies,  the 
heaviest  is  the  woman  we  have  ceased  to  love,"  and  he 
hoped  when  r^arried  to  be  able  to  feel  some  of  that 
respect  and  trust  A'hich  make  things  different  from  the 
ordinary  French  experience.  But  when  he  thought  of 
Margaret  as  his  wife  the  thought  was  vague,  and  not  so 
full  of  purpose  as  some  of  his  other  schemes.  The  mental 
picture  of  Margaret  sitting  near  him  by  the  fireside  keep- 
ing up  a  bright  chatter,  or  else  playing  Beethoven  to 
him,  the  music  sounding  at  its  best  through  the  puff-puff 
of  a  contemplative  pipe,  had  not  altogether  dulled  his 
appreciation  of  those  pleasures  of  the  chase,  as  he  called 
them,  over  which  he  had  wasted  so  much  of  his  time. 
Moreover,  he  felt  that  it  was  altogether  a  toss-up  whether 
she  would  accept  him  or  not,  and  that  he  did  not  appeal 
to  her  quite  in  the  same  way  that  he  did  to  other  women. 
This  threw  his  hand  out.  If  he  wished  her  to  marry  him 
at  any  time,  he  thought  he  would  have  to  put  his  best  foot 
foremost,  and  tread  lightly  where  the  way  seemed  so  pre- 
carious. He  knew  that  she  liked  him  very  much  as  she 
would  a  work  of  art.  It  was  a  good  thing  to  have  a  tall 
figure  and  clean-cut  limbs,  but  it  seemed  almost  pathetic 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


to  be  ranked,  as  it  were,  with  old  china,  no  matter  how 
full  of  soul  the  willow-pattern  might  be. 

Now  that  Nina  had  fairly  commenced  the  yachting 
cruise,  she  could  be  pleasant  and  jolly  with  Jack  on 
board  the  boat,  but  when  it  came  to  leaving  the  ball-room 
at  the  Arlington  for  a  little  prom,enade  with  him  on  the 
verandas,  the  idea  seemed  slow  and  uninviting.  After  a 
dance,  Jack  moved  away  with  her,  intending  to  saunter 
out  through  one  of  the  low  windows. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  pleasanter  in  here  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Well,  I  find  it  a  little  warm  here,  don't  you  ?  Be- 
sides the  moon  is  shining  outside,  and  we  can  get  a  fine 
view  of  the  lake  from  the  end  of  the  walk." 

"  But,  my  dear  Jack,  have  we  not  been  enjoying  a  fine 
view  of  the  lake  all  day  ?  You  see  I  don't  want  every 
person  to  think  that  we  can  not  be  content  unless  we  are 
mooning  off  together  in  some  dark  corner.  It  does  not 
look  well ;  now,  does  it  ?  " 

Jack  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  I  did  not  think  you  were 
so  very  careful  of  Mrs.  Grundy.  Wheti  did  you  turn  over 
the  new  leaf?  I  suppose  the  idea  did  not  occur  to  you 
that  being  out  with  Geoffrey  for  two  or  three  dances 
might  also  excite  comment." 

Nina  had  already  surveyed  the  lake  to  some  extent 
during  the  evening  under  pleasing  auspices,  but  she  did 
not  like  being  reminded  of  it,  and  answered  hotly : 

"  How,  then,  do  you  expect  me  to  enjoy  going  ^o  look 
at  the  lake  again  ?  I  have  seen  the  lake  three  times  al- 
ready this  evening,  and  no  person  has  made  me  feel  that 
there  was  any  great  romance  in  the  surroundings.  Surely 
you  don't  think  that  you  would  conjure  up  the  romance, 
do  you  ? " 

"  Evidently  1  would  not  be  able  to  do  that  for  you," 
said  Jack  slowly,  while  he  thought  how  different  her  feel- 
ings were  from  his  own.     It  g  lied  him  to  have  it  placed 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


105 


before  him  how  stale  he  had  become  to  her.  He  con- 
quered his  rising  anger,  and  said  : 

"  I  am  afraid  that  our  engagement  had  become  very 
prosaic  to  you." 

"  Horribly  so,"  said  Nina.  "  It  all  seems  just  as  if 
we  were  married.  Not  quite  so  bad,  though,  because  I 
suppose  I  would  then  have  to  be  civil.  What  a  bore! 
Fancy  having  to  be  civil  continually  !  " 

"I  believe  that  a  fair  amount  of  civility  is  consid- 
ered— " 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  tell  me  what  our  married  life  will 
be.  I  know  all  about  it.  Mutual  resignation  and  endear- 
ing nothings.  Church  on  Sundays;  wash  on  Mondays. 
It  will  be  respectable  and  meritorious  and  virtuous  and 
generally  unbearable — " 

"  Hush,  hush,  Nina  !  Why  do  you  talk  in  this  strain  ? 
Why  do  you  go  out  of  your  way  to  say  unkind  things  ?  I 
know  you  do  not  mean  a  quarter  of  what  you  say.  If  I 
thought  you  did  I — " 

"  Was  I  saying  unkind  things  ? "  interrupted  Nina.  "  I 
did  not  think  of  their  being  unkind.  It  seems  natural 
enough  to  look  at  things  in  this  way." 

She  was  endeavoring  now  to  neutralize  her  hasty 
words  by  softer  tones,  and  she  only  made  matters  worse.  It 
is  difficult  to  climb  clear  of  the  consciousness  of  our  own 
necessities  when  it  envelops  us  like  a  fog,  obscuring  the 
path.  In  some  way  a  good  deal  of  what  she  said  to  Jack 
now  seemed  tinged  with  the  wrong  color,  and  out  of  the 
effort  to  be  pleasant  had  begun  to  grow  a  distaste  for  his 
presence.  Much  as  she  still  liked  him,  she  always  tried 
during  this  cruise  to  get  into  the  ooat  or  into  the  party 
where  Jack  was  not. 

It  had  been  his  own  proposal  that  she  should  see  a 
good  deal  of  Hampstead,  and  so  it  never  occurred  to  him 
to  be  jealous ;  and  afterward  she  became  more  crafty  in 


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blinding  his  eyes  to  the  real  cause  of  the  dissatisfaction 
she  now  expressed.  While  in  Jack's  presence  her  man- 
ner toward  Geoffrey  was  studiously  off-hand  and  friendly. 
Whatever  her  manner  might  be  when  they  strolled  off 
together,  it  was  certain  that  an  understanding  existed 
between  the  two  to  conceal  from  Jack  whatever  inter- 
est they  might  have  in  one  another.  She  was  forced  to 
think  continuously  of  Geoffrey  so  that  every  other  train 
of  thought  sank  i  ito  insignificance,  and  was  crowded  out. 
A  colder  person,  with  temptation  infinitely  less,  would 
have  done  what  was  right  and  would  have  captured  the 
world's  approbation.  It  would  do  harm  to  examine  too 
closely  the  natures  of  many  saints  of  pious  memory  and 
to  be  obliged  to  paint  out  their  accustomed  halo.  If  the 
convicted  are  ever  more  richly  endowed  than  the  social 
arbiters,  they  are  different  and  not  understood,  and  there- 
fore judged.  No  sin  is  so  great  as  that  which  we  our- 
selves are  not  tempted  to  commit.  Ignorance  either  dei- 
fies or  spits  upon  what  can  not  be  understood.  But,  after 
all,  we  must  have  some  standard,  some  social  tribunal ; 
and  social  wrong,  no  matter  how  it  is  looked  at,  must  be 
prevented,  no  matter  how  well  we  understand  that  some 
are,  as  regards  social  law,  made  crooked. 

But  let  us  hasten  more  slowly. 

Sunday  morning,  strangely  enough,  followed  the  Sat- 
urday night  which  had  been  spent  at  the  Arlington.  The 
daylight  of  Sunday  followed  about  two  hours  after  the  last 
man  coaxed  himself  to  his  berth  from  the  yacht's  deck  and 
the  tempting  night.  When  all  the  others  were  fairly  off  in 
a  solid  sleep,  as  if  wound  up  for  twenty-four  hours,  one 
individual  arrived  at  partial  consciousness  and  wondered 
where  he  was.  A  sensation  of  pleasure  pervaded  him. 
Something  new  and  enjoyable  lay  before  him,  but  he 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  what  it  was.  That  he  was 
not  in  173  Tremaine  Buildings  seemed  certain.     If  not 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


107 


there,  where  was  he  ?  To  fully  consider  the  matter  he  sat 
up  in  his  berth  and  gave  his  head  a  thump  on  a  beam 
overhead,  which  conveyed  some  intelligence  to  him. 
Then,  lying  back  on  the  pillow,  he  laughed  and  rubbed 
his  poll.  "A  lubber's  mistake,"  quoth  he;  and  then, 
after  a  little,  "  I  wonder  what  it's  like  outside  ?  "  A  lanky 
figure  in  a  long  white  garment  was  presently  to  be  seen 
stumbling  up  the  companion-way,  and  a  head  appeared 
above  the  deck-  with  hair  disheveled  looking  like  a  sleepy 
bird  of  prey.  All  around  it  was  so  still  that  nothing  could 
be  heard  but  some  one  snoring  down  below.  The  yacht 
lay  with  her  anchor-chain  nowhere — a  thread  would  have 
held  her  in  position.  The  boats  behind  were  lying  mo- 
tionless ^nth  their  bows  under  the  yacht's  counter,  drawn 
up  there  by  the  weight  of  their  own  painters  lying  in  the 
water.  Maurice  gazed  about  the  little  wharf-surrounded 
harbor  with  curiosity  and  artistic  pleasure.  It  could  only 
have  been  this  and  the  feeling  of  gladness  in  him  that 
made  him  interested  in  the  lumber-piles  and  railway-der- 
ricks about  him,  but  it  was  all  so  new  and  strange  to 
him.  **  Gad !  to  be  off  like  this,  on  a  yacht,  and  to  live 
on  board,  you  know  !  "  said  he,  talking  to  himself,  as  he 
hoisted  himself  up  by  his  arms  and  sat  on  the  top  of  the 
sliding  hatchway.  He  moved  away  soon  after  sitting 
down,  because  of  about  half  an  inch  of  cold  dew  on 
the  hatch.  This  awakened  him  completely.  He  walked 
gingerly  toward  the  stern  and  looked  at  the  blaze  of 
red  and  gold  in  the  eastern  sky  where  the  sun  was 
making  a  triumphal  entry.  Then  he  walked  to  the  bow 
and  watched  the  light  gild  the  masts  of  the  lumber- 
schooners  and  the  fog-bank  over  the  lake,  and  the  carcass 
of  a  drowned  dog  floating  close  at  hand.  He  saw  bits  of 
the  shore  beyond  the  town  and  wanted  to  go  there.  He 
wanted  to  inspect  the  little  squat  light-house  that  shone 
in  its  reflected  glory  better  than  it  ever  shone  at  night. 


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Yes,  he  must  see  all  these  things.  It  was  all  fairyland  to 
him.  The  gig  was  carefully  pulled  alongside  when,  happy 
thought !  a  smoke  would  be  just  the  thing.  The  weird 
figure  dived  down  for  pipe,  matches,  and  "  'baccy,"  and 
soon  came  up  smiling.  **  Never  knew  anything  so  quiet 
as  this,"  he  said,  as  he  filled  the  pipe.  The  snore  below 
seemed  to  be  the  only  note  typical  of  the  scene — not  very 
musical,  perhaps,  but  eloquent  and  art  stically  correct. 

He  had  not  gone  far  in  the  gig  when  he  came  across 
the  picturesque  drowned  dog.  Really  it  would  be  too  bad 
to  allow  this  to  remain  where  it  was,  even  though  gilded. 
The  sun  would  get  up  higher,  and  then  there  would  be 
no  poetry  about  it,  but  only  plain  dog.  So  he  went  back 
to  the  deck  and  saw  a  boat-hook.  That  would  do  well 
enough  to  remove  the  eyesore  with,  but  how  could  he 
row  and  hold  the  boat-hook  at  the  same  time  ?  Tf  he 
only  had  a  bit  of  string,  now,  or  a  piece  of  rope !  But 
these  articles  are  not  to  be  found  on  a  well-kept  deck, 
and  it  would  not  be  right  to  wake  up  anybody.  Happy 
thought !  He  took  the  pike-pole  and  rowed  rapidly 
toward  the  dog,  and,  as  he  passed  it,  dropped  the  oars 
and  grabbed  the  dog  with  the  end  of  the  pike-pole.  His 
idea  was  that  the  momentum  of  the  boat  would,  by  re- 
peated efforts,  remove  the  dog.  But  the  deceased  was  not 
to  be  coaxed  in  this  way  from  the  little  harbor  where  he 
had  so  peacefully  floated  for  four  weeks.  So  Maurice, 
after  suffering  in  the  contest,  went  on  board  again.  Still 
the  snore  below  went  on,  and  still  nobody  got  up  to  help 
him.  He  searched  the  deck  for  any  part  of  the  rigging 
that  would  suit  him,  determined  to  cut  away  as  much  as 
he  wanted  of  whatever  came  first.  Ah  !  the  signal  hal- 
yards !  He  soon  had  about  two  hundred  feet  unrove, 
little  recking  of  the  man  who  had  to  "  shin  up  "  to  the 
topmast-head  to  reeve  the  line  again.  The  dog  must  go. 
That  Margaret's  eyes  should  not  be  insulted  was  so  set- 


^»"*W 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


109 


tied  in  his  chivalrous  little  head  that — well,  in  fact,  the 
dog  would  have  to  go,  and,  if  not  by  hook  or  by  crook,  he 
finally  went  lassoed  a  good  two  hundred  feet  behind, 
Rankin  rowing  lustily. 

After  this  object  had  been  committed  to  the  deep,  a 
seagull  came  and  lighted  on  a  floating  plank  to  consider 
the  situation,  and  gave  a  cry  that  could  be  heard  a  vast 
distance.  Maurice  rowed  out  about  half  a  mile  into  the 
lake,  and  then  could  be  seen  a  lithe  figure  diving  in  over 
the  side  of  the  boat  and  disporting  itself,  which  uttered 
cries  like  a  peacock  when  it  came  to  the  surface,  and  in- 
terested the  lethr<rgic  seagulls. 

While  he  was  doing  this  the  fog  bank  slowly  moved 
in  from  the  lake  and  enveloped  him,  so  that  he  began  to 
wonder  where  the  shore  was.  He  got  into  the  boat,  with- 
out taking  the  trouble  to  don  his  garment,  and  rowed 
toward  the  place  where  he  thought  the  shore  was.  Half 
an  hour's  rowing  brought  him  back  to  some  driftwood 
which  he  had  noticed  before,  so  he  gave  up  rowing  in  cir- 
cles, put  on  the  garment,  settled  himself  in  the  stern-sheets, 
and  lit  a  pipe.  The  air  was  warm,  and  a  gentle  motion 
in  the  lake  rocked  him  comfortably,  until  a  voice  aroused 
him  that  might  have  been  a  hundred  yards  or  two  miles 
off. 

"  Ahoy  !  "  came  over  the  water. 

"  Ahoy  yourself,"  called  Rankin. 

Jack  had  got  up,  and,  having  missed  the  gig,  had  come 
to  the  end  of  the  wharf  in  his  basswood  canoe,  which  the 
Ideal  also  carried  in  this  cruise. 

"  By  Jove,"  thought  Jack,  "  I  believe  that's  Morry  out 
there  in  the  fog ;  he  will  never  get  back  as  long  as  he  can 
not  see  the  shore." 

*'  Ahoy  there,"  he  called  again. 

"  Ahoy  yourself,"  came  back  in  a  tone  of  indifference. 

"  Where  are  you  ?  " 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


M 


"  Never  you  mind." 

"  Who  is  out  there  with  you  ?  " 

**  The  gulls,"  answered  Maurice,  as  he  smiled  to  him- 
self. 

Jack  did  not  quite  hear  him.  "  The  Gull  ?  "  thought 
he.  "  Surely  not !  Why,  he  must  be  at  least  three  miles 
off." 

*'  Do  you  mean  the  Gull  Light  ? "  he  called. 

*'  Ya-as.     What's  the  matter  with  you,  any  way  ? " 

They  were  so  far  apart  that  their  voices  sounded  to 
each  other  as  if  they  came  through  a  telephone. 

At  this  time  the  fog  had  lifted  from  Maurice,  and  he 
lay  basking  in  the  sun,  perfectly  content  with  everything, 
while  Jack,  still  enveloped  in  fog,  was  feeling  quite  anx- 
ious about  him.  He  paddled  quickly  back  to  the  yacht 
and  got  a  pocket  compass,  and  with  this  in  the  bottom  of 
the  canoe  steered  sou'-sou'west  until  he  got  out  of  the 
fog,  and  discovered  the  gig  floating  high  up  at  the  bow 
and  low  down  aft,  pufifiing  smoke  and  drifting  up  the  lake 
before  an  easterly  breeze  and  looking,  in  the  distance, 
rather  like  a  steam-barge. 

"Is  that  the  costume  you  go  cruising  in  ?"  asked  Jack, 
as  he  drew  near. 

"  This  is  the  latest  fashion,  Mother  Hubbard  gown, 
don't  you  know  !  "  said  Maurice,  as  he  viewed  his  spindle 
calves  with  satisfaction.  "  Look  at  that  for  a  leg,"  he 
cried,  as  he  waved  a  pipe-stem  in  the  air.  "  No  discount 
on  that  leg." 

"Nor  anything  else,"  growled  Jack.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  going  off  this  way  with  the  ship's  boats  ? " 

"  Not  piracy,  is  it  ?  "  asked  Morry. 

"Don't  know,"  said  Jack,  "but  I  am  going  to  arrest 
you  for  being  a  dissolute,  naked  vagrant,  without  visible 
means  of  support,  and  I  shall  take  you  to  the  place  whence 
you  came  and  — " 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


Ill 


"Bet  you  half  a  dollar  you  don't.  I'm  on  the  high 
seas,  so  *  get  out  of  me  nar-east  coorse,'  or  by  the  holy 
poker  I'll  sink  you." 

Jack  came  along  to  tie  the  gig's  painter  to  his  canoe 
and  thus  take  it  into  custody.  Then  a  splashing  match 
followed,  during  which  Jack  got  hold  of  the  rope  and  be- 
gan to  paddle  away.  This  was  but  a  temporary  advan- 
tage. A  wild  figure  leaped  from  the  gig  and  lit  on  the 
gunwale  of  the  canoe,  causing  confusion  in  the  enemy's 
fleet.  Jack  had  just  time  to  grab  his  compass  when  he 
was  shot  out  into  the  "  drink,"  as  if  from  a  catapult,  and 
when  he  came  to  the  surface  he  had  to  pick  up  his  paddle, 
while  Morry  swam  back  to  the  gig,  proceeding  to  row 
about  triumphantly,  having  the  enemy  swamped  and  at  his 
mercy.  The  overturned  canoe  would  barely  float  Jack, 
so  Rankin  made  him  beg  for  mercy  and  promise  to  make 
him  an  eggnog  when  they  reached  the  yacht.  When  on 
board  again  they  slept  three  hours  before  anybody  thought 
of  getting  up. 

As  eight  o'clock  was  striking  in  the  town,  these  two 
children  thought  it  was  time  for  everybody  to  be  up.  They 
were  spoiling  for  some  kind  of  devilment.  Geoffrey  and 
Charley  and  others  were  already  awake,  and  had  slipped 
into  shirt  and  trousers  to  go  away  for  a  morning  swim  in 
the  lake. 

Jack  visited  the  sleepers  with  a  yell.  Mr.  Lemons, 
another  proposed  victim  of  the  Dusenalls,  still  slept  peace- 
fully. 

"  Now,  then,  do  get  up  !  "  cried  Jack,  in  a  tone  of  re- 
proach. 

*'Wha's  matter?" 

"  Get  up,"  yelled  Jack. 

"Wha'for.?" 

"  To  wash  yourself,  man." 

Suppressed  laughter  was  heard  from  the  ladies'  cabins. 


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112 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"  Gor  any  washstands  on  board  ? "  still  half  asleep,  but 
sliding  into  an  old  pair  of  sailing  trousers. 

"Washstands?  Well,  I  never!  Wouldn't  a  Turkish 
bath  satisfy  you  ?  No,  sir  !  You'll  dive  off  the  end  of  the 
pier  with  the  others." 

"  Not  much.     Gimme  bucket  an*  piece  soap." 

"What !  you  won't  wash  yourself?  "  cried  Jack,  at  the 
top  of  his  voice.  "  Oh,  this  is  horrible  !  I  say  there, 
aft !  you,  fellows,  come  here !  Lemons  says  he  won't 
wash  himself." 

At  this  four  or  five  men  ran  in  and  pulled  him  on 
deck,  where  Charley  stood  with  a  towel  in  his  hand.  No 
one  would  give  Lemons  a  chance  to  explain.  They  said, 
"  See  here,  skipper,  Lemons  won't  wash  himself." 

Charley's  countenance  assumed  an  expression  of  dis- 
gust.    "  Oh,  the  dirty  swab  !     Heave  him  overboard  !  " 

Lemons  broke  away  then  and  tried  to  climb  the  rig- 
ging, but  he  was  caught  and  carried  back,  two  men  at  each 
limb,  who  showered  reproach  upon  him.  The  victim  was 
as  helpless  as  a  babe  in  their  hands,  and  was  conscious 
that  the  ladies  had  heard  everything. 

Charlie  rapped  on  the  admiralty  skylight  and  asked  for 
instructions.  He  declared  Lemons  would  not  wash  him- 
self, and  he  asked  what  should  be  done  with  him  ?  In 
vain  the  victim  cried  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  plot.  A 
prompt  answer  came,  with  the  sound  of  laughter,  from  the 
admiralty  that  he  was  to  go  overboard.  This  was  received 
with  savage  satisfaction,  and,  after  three  swings  backward 
and  forward.  Lemon's  body  was  launched  into  the  air  and 
disappeared  under  the  water. 

But  Lemons  did  not  come  up  again.  In  two  or  three 
seconds  it  occurred  to  some  one  to  ask  whether  Lemons 
could  swim.  They  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  he  could. 
The  thought  came  over  them  that  perhaps  by  this  time  he 
was  gone  forever.    Without  waiting  further,  Geoffrey  dived 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"3 


off  the  wall-sided  yacht  to  grope  along  the  bottom,  which 
was  only  twelve  feet  from  the  suriace.  He  entered  the 
water  like  a  knife,  and  from  the  bubbles  that  rose  to  the 
surface  it  could  be  seen  that  a  thorough  search  was  being 
made.  Each  one  took  slightly  different  directions,  and 
went  over  the  side,  one  after  another,  like  mud-turtles  off 
a  log.  Between  them  all,  the  chance  of  his  remaining 
drowned  upon  the  bottom  was  small.  Several  came  up 
for  air,  and  dived  again  in  another  place  and  met  eacl^ 
other  below.  There  was  no  gamboling  now.  They  were 
horrified,  and  looked  upon  it  as  a  matter  of  life  or  death. 
They  dived  again  and  again,  until  one  man  came  up  bleed- 
ing at  the  nose  and  sick  with  exhaustion.  Geoffrey  swam  to 
help  him  to  reach  the  yacht,  when  an  explosion  of  laugh- 
ter was  heard  on  the  deck,  and  there  was  Lemons,  with 
the  laugh  entirely  on  his  side.  As  soon  as  he  had  got  un- 
derneath the  surface  he  had  dived  deep,  and  by  swimming 
under  water  had  come  up  under  the  counter,  where  he 
waited  till  all  were  in  the  water,  and  then  he  came  on 
deck. 

Revenge  was  never  more  complete.  Lemons  was  the 
hero  of  the  hour.  The  girls  thought  him  splendid,  and 
afterward  the  sight  of  eight  pairs  of  trousers  and  eight 
shirts  drying  on  the  main-boom  seemed  to  do  him  good. 

Charlie  said  they  ought  not  to  make  a  laundry  clothes- 
horse  of  the  yacht  on  Sunday,  and  proposed  to  leave  Co- 
bourg.  Mrs.  Dusenall  made  a  slight  demur  to  leaving  on 
Sunday.  Jack  explained  that  if  it  blew  hard  from  the 
south  they  could  not  get  out  at  all  without  a  steam-tug 
from  Port  Hope.  This  seemed  a  bore — to  be  locked  up, 
willy-nilly,  in  harbor — so  the  yacht  was  warped  to  the 
head  of  the  east  pier,  where,  catching  the  breeze,  she 
cleared  the  west  pier  and  headed  out  into  the  lake.  Out- 
side they  found  the  wind  pretty  well  ahead  and  increas- 
ing, but,  with  sails  flattened  in,  the  Ideal  lay  down  to  it, 
8 


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114 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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and  clawed  up  to  windward  in  a  way  that  did  their  hearts 
good. 

Some  topsails  were  soon  descried  far  away  to  wind- 
ward, showing  where  two  other  vessels  were  also  beating 
down  the  lake.  This  gave  them  something  to  try  for,  and 
when  the  topmast  was  housed  and  all  made  snug  not  a 
great  while  elapsed  before  the  hulls  of  the  schooners  be- 
came occasionally  visible.  The  sea  was  much  higher  and 
the  motion  greater  than  on  the  previous  day,  but  the 
breeze,  being  ahead,  was  more  refreshing,  and  nobody  felt 
in  danger  of  being  ill  after  the  first  hour  out.  They 
''came  to"  under  the  wooded  rocks  of  Nicholas  Island, 
put  in  a  couple  of  reefs,  for  comfort's  sake,  and  "hove 
to  "  in  calm  water  to  take  lunch  quietly. 

After  lunch,  as  the  yacht  paid  off  on  a  tack  to  the 
southward  to  weather  the  Scotch  Bonnet  Lighthouse,  they 
found,  on  leaving  the  shelter  of  the  island,  a  sea  rolling 
outside  large  enough  to  satisfy  any  of  them.  One  hardly 
realizes  from  looking  at  a  small  atlas  what  a  nice  little 
jump  of  a  sea  Ontario  can  produce  in  these  parts.  The 
hour  lost  in  mollycoddling  for  lunch  under  the  island 
made  a  difference  in  the  work  the  yacht  had  to  do.  The 
two  schooners,  having  received  another  long  start,  were 
making  good  weather  of  it  well  to  windward  of  the  light, 
and,  when  on  the  tops  of  waves,  their  hulls  could  be  seen 
launching  ahead  in  fine  style  through  the  white  crests. 
The  yacht's  rigging,  as  she  soared  to  the  top  of  the  wave, 
supplied  a  musical  instrument  for  the  wind  to  play  bar- 
baric tunes  upon,  which  to  Jack  and  some  others  were  in- 
spiring. As  she  swept  down  the  breezy  side  of  a  con- 
quered wave,  her  rigging  sounded  a  savage  challenge  to 
the  next  bottle-green-and-white  mountain  to  come  on  and 
be  cut  down. 

Mrs.  Dusenall  went  below  and  fell  asleep  in  her  berth, 
and  some  of  the  others  were  lying  about  the  after-cabin 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


115 


dozing  over  books.  Nina  and  the  Dusenall  girls  lay  on  the 
sloping  deck,  propped  against  the  companion-hatch,  where 
they  could  command  the  attention  of  several  other  people 
who  were  sprawled  about  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  wheel. 
Margaret  and  Rankin  persisted  in  climbing  about  the  slant- 
ing decks,  changing  their  positions  as  new  notions  about 
the  sailing  of  the  vessel  came  to  them.  They  seemed  so 
pleased  with  each  other  and  with  everything — exchanging 
their  private  little  jokes  and  relishing  the  odd  scraps 
culled  from  favorite  authors  that  each  brought  out  in  the 
talk,  as  old  friends  can.  Maurice  made  love  to  her  in  *he 
openest  way — every  glance  straight  into  her  deep-sea  eyes. 
Not  possessing  a  muscle  or  a  figure,  he  wooed  her  with  his 
wits  and  a  certain  virtuous  boldness  that  asserted  his  un- 
mixed admiration  and  his  quaint  ideas  with  some  force. 
And  she  to  him  was  partly  motherly,  chiefly  sisterly,  and 
partly  coquettish,  like  one  who  accepts  the  admiration  of 
half  a  score  before  her  girlish  fancies  are  gathered  into 
the  great  egotism  of  the  one  who  shall  reign  thrice- 
crowned.  Just  look  at  Geoffrey  now,  as  he  nears  this 
schooner,  steering  the  yacht  as  she  comes  up  behind  and 
to  leeward  of  the  big  vessel  that  majestically  spurns  the 
waves  into  half  an  acre  of  foam.  They  tell  him  he  can't 
weather  her,  that  he'll  have  to  bear  away.  Now  look  at 
his  muscular  full  neck  and  thick  crisp  curls.  See  his  jaw 
grow  rigid  and  his  eye  flash  as  he  calculates  the  weight  of 
the  wind  and  the  shape  of  the  sea,  the  set  of  the  sails,  and 
the  distances.  Obviously,  a  man  to  have  his  way.  Ob- 
jections do  not  affect  him.  See  how  Margaret's  eyes 
sweep  quickly  from  the  schooner  back  to  Geoffrey,  to 
watch  what  he  is  doing.  Why  is  it  when  they  say  he 
can't  do  it  that  it  never  occurs  to  her  that  he  won't  ?  She 
looks  at  him  open-eyed  and  thoughtful,  and  thinks  it  is 
fine  to  carry  the  courage  of  one's  opinions  to  success, 
and  she  smiles  as  the  yacht  skillfully  evades  the  main- 


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GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


boom  of  the  schooner  and  saws  up  on  her  windward 
side. 

The  sunrise  that  Maurice  saw  early  in  the  morning 
was  too  sweet  to  be  wholesome.  As  the  day  wore  on,  the 
barometer  grew  unsteady.  A  leaden  scud  came  flying 
overhead,  and  the  fellows  began  to  wonder  whetiier  they 
would  have  to  thrash  around  Long  Point  all  night.  A 
good  many  opinions  were  passed  on  the  weather,  which 
certainly  did  not  look  promising.  Margaret  suggested 
that  it  would  be  more  comfortable  to  go  into  port,  but  was 
just  as  well  pleased  to  hear  that  they  had  either  to  go 
about  forty  miles  further  for  a  shelter,  or  else  run  back 
to  Cobourg.  Presque  Isle  was  not  spoken  of,  since  it  was 
too  shallow  and  intricate  to  enter  safely  at  night.  Lemons 
suggested  that  they  should  go  back  and  anchor  under 
Nicholas  Island,  where  they  had  lunched. 

"  Might  as  well  look  for  needle  in  a  hay-stack,"  said 
Charley.  "  It's  going  to  be  as  black  as  a  pocket  when 
daylight  is  gone.  And  if  you  did  get  there  it  is  no  place 
to  anchor  on  a  night  like  this." 

Jack  did  not  say  anything.  He  knew  that  Charley 
would  go  on  to  South  Bay,  and  he  looked  forward  to 
another  night  of  it  round  Long  Point.  The  only  person 
who  cared  much  what  was  done  was  Mr.  Lemons.  To- 
wards evening  he  began  to  think  about  the  next  meal. 

"  My  dear  skipper,  how  can  you  ever  get  a  dinner 
cooked  in  such  a  sea  as  this  ?  The  cook  will  never  be 
able  to  prepare  anything  in  such  a  commotion,"  said  he 
regretfully. 

"  Won't  he  !  "  exclaimed  Charley  decisively.  "  Just 
wait  and  see.  My  men  understand  that  they  have  to  cook 
if  the  vessel  never  gets  up  off  her  beam  ends." 

"  What,  you  do  not  mean  to  say  it  will  be  all — "  Mr. 
Lemons  came  and  laid  his  head  on  Charley's  shoulder 
— "  that  it  will  be  all  just  as  it  was  yesterday  ?     Oh,  say 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


"7 


that  it  will.  *  Stay  me  with  flagons ;  comfort  me  with 
apples.'  " 

"  (iet  up — off  me,  you  fat  lump,"  cried  Charley,  push- 
ing him  away  vehemently.  "  I  say  that  we  will  do  better 
to-day,  or  we'll  put  the  cook  in  irons.  I  hate  a  measly 
fellow  who  gives  in  just  when  you  want  him.  I  have 
sacked  four  stewards  and  six  cooks  about  this  very  things 
and  it  is  a  sore  subject  with  me." 

**  De-lightful  man,"  said  Lemons,  gazing  rapturously 
at  Charley. 

"Rankin  will  tell  you,"  said  Jack.  "He  drew  the 
papers.    The  whole  thing  is  down  in  black  and  white." 

"  True  enough,"  said  Maurice.  "  But  I  don't  see  how 
signing  papers  will  teach  a  man  to  cook  on  the  side  of  a 
stove,  when  the  ship  is  lying  over  and  pitching  like  this." 

"  No  more  do  I,"  said  Lemons  anxiously. 

"  Why,  man  alive  !  "  said  Charley,  "  the  whole  stove 
works  something  like  a  compass,  don't-you-know.  He 
has  got  it  all  swinging — slung  in  irons." 

"  That  is  far  better  than  having  the  cook  in  irons," 
suggested  Margaret. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Lemons,  as  he  gazed  at  the  sky, 
"  that  remark  appeals  to  me.     The  lady  is  correct." 

Then  he  arose  and  grasped  Charley  in  a  vice-like 
grip,  for  though  fat  he  was  powerful  He  pinned  the 
skipper  to  the  deck  and  sat  upon  him. 

"  Say,  dearest,"  he  cooed  into  his  ear,  "  at  about 
what  hour  will  this  heavenly  repast  be  ready  ? " 

"Pull  him  off — somebody!"  groaned  Charley.  **  I 
hate  a  man  that  has  to  be  thrown  in  the  water  to — "  a 
thump  on  the  back  silenced  him. 

"  May  I  convey  your  commands  to  the  Minister  of  the 
Interior,"  asked  his  tormentor. 

"  Oh,  my  ribs  !    Yes.    Tell  him  to  begin  at  it  at  once." 

"  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Lemons  sagaciously ; 


'3 

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ii8 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


I     J,.'''^' 


and  he  disappeared  down  the  companion-way  to  inter- 
view the  cook. 

"Ain't  he  a  brick?"  said  Charley,  after  Lemons  had 
gone  forward.  "  He's  a  regular  oneer,  that  chap  !  Give 
him  his  meals  on  time  and  he's  the  gamest  old  sardine. 
By  the  way,  let  us  have  a  sweepstake  on  the  time  we  drop 
anchor  in  South  Bay." 

"  We  haven't  any  money  in  these  togs,"  said  Geoffrey. 

"  Well,  you'll  all  have  to  owe  it,  then.  We'll  imagine 
there's  a  quarter  apiece  in  the  pool." 

Margaret  wanted  to  know  what  was  to  be  done.  It 
was  explained  that  each  person  had  to  write  his  name  on 
a  folded  paper  with  the  time  he  thought  anchor  would  be 
dropped  in  South  Bay.  The  names  were  read  out  after- 
ward. They  all,  with  two  exceptions,  ranged  between 
one  o'clock  at  night  and  seven  the  next  morning.  The 
sea  was  running  tremendously  high  and  the  wind  dead 
ahead.  It  wao  now  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  and  with 
some  thirty-five  miles  yet  to  beat  to  windward.  What 
surprised  them  all  was  that  Jack  had  chosen  ten  o'clock 
and  Charley  half-past  ten  of  the  same  evening.  They 
explained  that  they  had  based  their  ideas  on  the  clouds. 

"  If  you  look  carefully,"  said  Jack,  "  you'll  see  that 
close  to  this  lower  scud  coming  from  the  east,  there  is  a 
lighter  cloud  flying  out  the  south  and  west." 

"  I  wish,  Jack,  you  had  not  come  on  this  trip,"  said 
Charley.  "  I  could  make  lots  of  money  if  you  were  not 
on  board." 

Sure  enough,  the  yacht  began  to  point  up  nearer  and 
nearer  to  her  course,  soon  after  they  spoke.  Presently 
she  lay  her  course,  with  the  sheet  lightly  started,  mount- 
ing over  the  head  seas  like  a  race-horse,  and  roaring 
straight  into  the  oncoming  walls  of  water  till  it  seemed 
as  if  her  bowsprit  would  be  whipped  out.  The  wind  kept 
veering  till  at  last  they  had  a  quarterly  breeze  driving 


!     I  ' 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


119 


them  forcibly  into  the  seas  that  had  been  rising  all  day. 
Ordinarily  they  would  have  shortened  sail  to  ease  the 
boat,  but  now  that  dinner  was  ordered  for  half-past  nine 
o'clock,  they  drove  her  through  it  in  order  that  they 
might  dine  in  calm  water. 

They  raced  past  the  revolving  light  on  Long  Point 
faster  than  they  had  expected  to  pass  it  that  night.  The 
twenty-five  miles  run  from  here  was  made  in  darkness 
and  gloom.  The  boom  was  topped  up  to  keep  it  out  of 
the  water,  and  the  peak  of  the  reefed  mainsail  was 
dropped,  as  the  increasing  gale  threatened  to  bury  the 
bows  too  much  in  the  head  seas.  Although  early  enough 
in  the  evening,  everything  around  was,  as  Charley  had 
predicted,  as  black  as  a  pocket.  Now  and  then  some  rain 
drove  over  them.  Maurice  and  Margaret  sat  out  together 
on  deck,  wrapped  in  heavy  coats,  and  watched  what 
little  they  could  see.  The  howling  of  the  wind  and  roar- 
ing of  the  black  surges  beneath  them  were  new  experi- 
ences. Close  to  them  was  Jack,  standing  at  the  wheel, 
tooling  her  through.  By  the  binnacle-light  his  face, 
which  was  about  all  that  could  be  seen,  seemed  to  be 
filled  with  a  grave  contentment  that  broke  into  a  grim 
smile  when  the  boat  surged  into  a  wall  of  water  that 
would  have  stopped  a  bluff-bowed  craft.  Soon  after 
dropping  Long  Point,  he  leaned  over  the  hatchway  and 
called  down  to  Charley,  who  was  lying  on  his  back  on 
gay  cushions,  smoking  a  cigarette  and  reading  a  news- 
paper.    "  Got  the  Duck  Light,  skip." 

♦*  All  right,  old  boy.     Wire  in." 

Dusenall  turned  over  his  newspaper,  but  did  not  take 
the  trouble  to  come  on  deck  to  investigate. 

"  Say  !  "  he  called. 

"  Hello." 

"  Won't  she  take  the  peak  again  ?  I've  got  a  terrible 
twist  on  me  for  dinner." 


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J ' 


120 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"  No.  Bare  poles  is  more  what  she  wants  just  now," 
said  Jack. 

"  The  deuce  !     Who's  forrud  ?  " 

"  Billy  and  Joe." 

"  All  right.     Must  be  damp  for  *em  up  there." 

**  Can't  see.  Guess  it's  blue  water  to  the  knees, 
most  of  the  time." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder.     Do  'em  good." 

After  this  jargon  was  finished,  it  did  not  take  long  to 
run  down  to  the  False  Duck  Light.  Here  the  double- 
reefed  mainsail  was  "  squatted  "  and  the  fourth  reef-pen- 
niint  hauled  down.  The  reefed  staysail  was  taken  in  and 
stowed ;  and  under  the  peak  of  the  mainsail  they  jibed 
over.  Steering  by  the  compass,  they  then  rounded  to  lee- 
ward of  Timber  Island  and  hauled  their  wind  into  South 
Bay. 

To  put  the  Ideal  over  so  far  with  so  little  canvas  show- 
ing, it  must  have  been  blowing  a  gale.  They  sped  up 
into  the  bay  close  hauled,  and  "  came  to  "  in  about  four 
fathoms.  Down  went  the  big  anchor  through  the  hissing 
ripples  to  that  best  of  holding-grounds,  and  the  vessel, 
drifting  back  as  if  for  another  wild  run,  suddenly  fetched 
up  with  a  grind  on  her  iron  cable.  The  mad  thing  knew 
that  unyielding  grip,  and  swung  around  submissively. 


CHAPTER   X. 


Full  souls  are  double  mirrors,  making  still 

An  endless  vistji  of  fair  things  before, 

Repeating  things  behind. 

George  Eliot's  Poems, 

There  is  a  want  of  primness  in  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  my  characters  which  a  reviewer  might  take  excep- 
tion to.     To  be  sure  he  might  with  effect  criticise  their 


'•i^'r' 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


I2t 


making  up  a  pool  on  Sunday.  But  the  fact  was  that  nobody 
remembered  it  to  be  Sunday  until  Jack  wanted  to  collect 
his  winnings  after  dinner.  At  this,  Mrs.  Dusenall  held  up 
her  hands  in  high  disapproval.  While  out  in  the  lake,  in 
the  worst  part  of  the  sea,  she  had  commenced  to  read  her 
Bible,  and  had  felt  thankful  to  arrive  in  shelter.  Conse- 
quently she  remembered  the  day. 

'*  Surely,  Charley,  you  have  not  been  gambling  on  Sun- 
day ? "  said  she  reprovingly. 

The  girls  looked  guilty,  with  an  expressicn  of  "  Oh, 
haven't  we  been  bad  ?  "  on  their  faces. 

Rankin  endeavored  to  relieve  the  situation  by  explain- 
ing in  many  words  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  mere  mat- 
ter of  form,  and  no  more  than  an  expression  of  opinion 
as  to  the  time  the  boat  would  reach  the  harbor,  because 
no  money  was  put  up — in  fact,  as  the  arrangement  was 
made  on  Sunday,  the  whole  thing  was  illegal,  and  no  money 
ever  would  be  put  up,  etc. 

Jack  kicked  him  under  the  table  for  arguing  away  his 
winnings,  and  Margaret  quoted  at  him  : 

"  His  tongue 
Dropped  manna,  and  could  make  the  worse  appear 
The  better  reason,  to  perplex  and  dash 
Maturest  counsels." 

"  Good,"  said  Geoffrey.    **  Give  him  the  rest  of  it.  Miss 

Margaret.     Rub  it  in  well." 

Margaret  continued,  and  with  mirthful  eyes  declaimed 

at  Maurice  : 

'*  For  his  thoughts  were  low  ; 
To  vice  industrious,  but  to  nobler  deeds 
Timorous  and  slothful :  and  yet  he  pleas'd  the  ear, 
And  with  persuasive  accent  thus  began." 

This  amused  Margaret,  because  Maurice  was  such  a 
decent  little  man.     But  Geoffrey's  enjoyment  of  it  was 


I 


1  V 

■  '■» 


122 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


4'>.  i«4» 


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different.  Rankin  felt  that  there  was  growing  in  him  an 
antagonism  to  Hampstead.  He  was  afraid  of  him  for  her 
sake — afraid  she  would  learn  to  like  him  too  much.  At 
any  other  time  chaff  would  have  found  him  invulnerable, 
but  Geoffrev's  amusement  made  him  redden. 

"  You  seem  to  be  well  acquainted  with  the  character- 
istics of  Belial,  Hampstead,"  he  said.  "  Margaret,  your 
memory  is  excellent.  Could  you  favor  us  with  the  lines 
just  preceding    ,'hat  you  first  quoted  ?  " 

Why  should  Margaret  have  blushed  as  she  did  so? 

She  quoted  : 

*'  On  th*  other  side  up  rose 
Belial,  in  act  more  graceful  and  humane  ; 
A  fairer  person  lost  not  heaven  ;  he  seem'd 
For  dignity  compos'd  and  high  exploit : 
But  all  was  false  and  hollow  ;  though  his  tongue 
Dropp'd  manna,"  etc. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Maurice.  "  You  see  the  lines  are 
intended  to  describe  a  person  far  different  from  me  in 
appearance.  Hampstead,  you  observe,  had  studied  the 
passage.     A  coincidence,  is  it  not  ? " 

Soon  they  were  all  composing  themselves  for  sleep. 
Margaret  was  listening  peacefully  to  the  shrieking  of  the 
wind  in  the  rigging  as  she  thought  how  every  moment  on 
board  the  yacht  had  been  one  of  unclouded  enjoyment. 
An  unconscious  smile  went  over  her  face  that  would  have 
been  pleasant  to  see.  Then  she  thought  of  Geoffrey  and 
smiled  again.  This  time  she  caught  herself,  and  asked 
herself  why }  All  day,  since  she  had  watered  Geoffrey 
steering  the  yacht  beside  the  schooner  in  the  lake,  her 
mind  had  been  chanting  two  lines  of  poetry.  When  asked 
in  the  evening  to  repeat  the  lines  aloud  she  had  blushed 
because  it  seemed  like  confessing  herself. 

A  fairer  person, lost  not  heaven  ;  he  seemed 
For  dignity  composed  and  high  exploit. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


123 


In  her  mind  Geoffrey  had  become  identified  with  these 
two  lines.  But  what  had  friend  Maurice  meant  by  sad- 
dling the  context  on  him  in  that  malevolent  way  ?  Could 
he  really  have  thought  that  Belial's  character  was  also 
Geoffrey's  ?  She  put  away  this  idea  as  untenable.  She 
was  one  of  those  born  in  homes  where  the  struggle  for 
existence  has  not  for  generations  taught  the  household  to 
be  suspicious ;  with  the  innate  nobility  that  tends,  whether 
rightly  or  wrongly,  to  think  the  best  of  others ;  she  was 
one  of  those  whom  men  turn  to  with  relief  after  the  cun- 
ning and  suspicion  of  the  business  world,  each  feeling  the 
assistance  it  is  to  meet  scue  one  who  is  ready  to  take 
him  at  the  valuation  he  would  like  to  be  able  justly  to 
put  upon  himself. 

When  morning  broke,  there  were  eight  or  ten  schooners 
to  be  seen  on  different  sides  that  had  run  in  for  shelter 
during  the  night.  About  six  o'clock  Margaret  crept  out 
to  satisfy  her  curiosity  as  to  what  kind  of  place  they  were 
in.  With  only  her  head  above  the  hatchway  at  the  top  of 
the  stairs  leading  up  from  the  ladies'  cabin  she  gazed  about 
for  some  time  before  she  spied  Maurice  sitting  on  the 
counter  with  his  back  to  her,  his  feet  dangling  over  the 
water  while  he  watched  the  vessels. 

She  crept  toward  him  and  gave  a  cry  close  to  his  ear, 
to  startle  him. 

"  Don't  make  so  much  noise,"  said  he,  quite  unstartled. 
"  I  don't  like  you  to  call  out  like  that  in  my  ear,"  He 
added,  perforce,  as  he  looked  at  her,  "At  least  I  don't 
like  it  when  I  can't  see  you." 

"  Don't  tell  stories,  Morry.  You  know  you  would  like 
me  to  do  it  at  any  time." 

'*  I  would  not,  indeed,"  he  asserted.  "  Come  and  sit 
down  and  keep  quite  silent.  Just  when  I  was  having  such 
a  happy,  peaceful  time  you  come  and  spoil  it  all." 

Margaret  sat  down  on  the  rail  and  turned  herself  about 


.  ^ 


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124 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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SO  that  she  could  sit  in  the  same  position  beside  him.  His 
helping  hand  still  held  hers  as  they  sat  together.  He  was 
almost  afraid  to  turn  toward  her,  for  fear  he  would  look 
too  tenderly.  She  might  go  away  if  he  did.  His  r^/e 
was  to  bully  her,  and  then  she  would  never  know  how 
exquisite  it  was  for  him  to  have  her  sit  beside  him. 

''  There,  now  !  Sit  perfectly  quiet  and  don't  say  an- 
other word.  Just  look  around  and  enjoy  yourself  in  a 
reasonable  manner.  I'm  not  going  to  have  my  morning 
disarranged  and  my  valuable  reveries  disturbed." 

The  wind  had  shifted  to  the  northwest  in  the  morning 
and  had  blown  itself  out  and  down  to  a  moderate  breeze 
with  a  clearing  sky,  with  patches  of  blue  and  broken 
clouds  overhead. 

"  Now  listen  to  the  chorus  of  the  sailors  as  they  get 
up  their  anchor.  Does  it  not  seem  a  sweet  and  fitting 
overture  to  the  whole  oratorio  of  the  voyage  before  them  ? 
I  have  been  watching  the  vessels  go  out,  one  by  one,  for 
over  an  hour.  I  must  say  there  are  some  uncommonly 
rude  men  among  the  sweet  singers  we  are  listening  to,  and 
— and — "     He  stopped  and  forgot  to  go  on. 

"And  what?"  cried  Margaret  peremptorily. 

Maurice  had  lost  himself  in  the  contemplation  of  some 
locks  of  sunny  hair,  that  were  flying  in  the  breeze  from 
Margaret's  forehead,  and  the  graceful  curve  of  her  full 
neck  as  she  looked  away  at  the  ships. 

"  Oh,  yes.  And  that's  Timber  Island  over  there, 
covered  with  trees  and  stamped  out  round  like  a  break- 
fast bun,  and  that's  the  False  Duck  Island,  where  we 
came  in  last  night.  The  schooner  sailing  yonder  is  going 
to  take  the  channel  between  that  white  line  of  breakers 
and  South  Bay  Point  running  out  there,  and  those  huts 
you  see  nestling  in  the  trees  far  away  on  the  main-land  are 
fishermen's  houses — " 

He  was  not  looking  at  any  ot  these  things,  but  was  fol- 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


125 


lowing  out  two  trains  of  thought  in  his  active  head  while  he 
talked  against  time.  What  really  absorbed  him  was  Mar- 
garet's ear,  and  a  sort  of  invisible  down  on  the  l)ack  part 
of  her  cheek.  He  was  thinking  to  himself  that  if  five 
dollars  would  purchase  a  kiss  on  that  spot  he  would 
content  to  see  a  notice  in  the  Gazette  :  '*  Maurice  Rankin, 
failed:  liabilities,  $5.00." 

Margaret  was  listening,  gravely  unconscious  of  being 
so  much  admired,  enjoying  all  he  said,  and  feasting  her 
eyes  upon  the  distances,  the  brilliant  colors,  and  the  fleet- 
ing shadows  of  the  broken  clouds  upon  the  water. 

"  Why,  what  a  nice  old  chappie  you  are  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, giving  his  hand  a  pat  and  taking  hers  away. 
"  How  did  you  manage  to  find  out  all  about  the  surround- 
ings ? " 

"  Been  around  boarding  the  different  schooners  lying 
at  anchor.  Examining  their  papers,  you  know,"  said  he 
grandly.  ''  Went  around  in  the  canoe  to  the  first  fellow — 
a  coal  vessel.  A  man  appeared  near  the  bow  and  looked 
down  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  kind  of  fish  swimming  about. 
*  Heave-to,  or  I'll  sink  you,*  I  said  in  the  true  old  nautical 
style.  He  did  not  say  a  word,  but  stooped  down  and  did 
heave  two,  in  fact  three,  pieces  of  coal  at  me.  I  passed 
on,  satisfied  that  his  vessel  needed  no  further  inspection. 
I  was  then  attracted  by  the  name  of  another  schooner,  on 
whose  stern  was  painted  the  legend  'Bark  Swaller.' " 

"  What  a  strange  name,"  said  Margaret,  as  Maurice 
spelled  it  out. 

"Well,  it  puzzled  me  a  good  deal,  as  I  examined  it 
closely,  being  in  doubt  whether  Barque  Swallow  was  in- 
tended, or  perhaps  the  name  of  some  German  owner.  At 
all  events  a  sailor  spied  me  paddling  about  under  the 
stern  of  the  boat  and  regarded  me  with  evident  suspicion. 
I  thought  I  would  deal  more  gently  with  this  man  than  with 
the  other  fellow.     *  Can  you  tell  me,'  I  asked,  *  the  name 


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sit: 


i 


126 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAH 


of  that  round  island  over  there  ?  *  The  only  answer  I 
got  was  unsatisfactory.  *  Sheer  off,'  said  he,  *  wid  your 
dirty  dug-out.'  This  seemed  rather  rude,  but  I  did  not 
retaliate.  I  thought  I  might  go  further  and  fare  worse,  so 
I  endeavored  to  mollify  him.  Perhaps,  I  thought,  being 
up  all  night  in  hard  weather  had  made  these  sailors  irrit- 
able. 

*' '  Can  you  drink  whisky  ? '  I  said — "  Margaret  was 
looking  at  Maurice  with  a  soft  expression  of  interest  and 
mirth.  He  was  talking  on  in  order  that  he  might  con- 
tinue to  bask  in  the  beauty  of  the  face  that  looked  straight 
at  him.  But  the  strain  for  a  moment  was  too  great.  For 
an  instant  he  slacked  up  his  check-rein,  and  while  he  nar- 
rated his  story  he  continued  in  the  same  tone  with : 
"(Believe  me,  my  dear  Margaret,  you  are  looking  per- 
fectly heavenly  this  morning)  and  the  effect  on  this  poor 
toiler  of  the  sea  was,  I  assure  you,  quite  wonderful." 
Rankin's  tongue  went  straight  on,  as  if  the  paranthesis 
were  part  of  the  narrative.  Margaret  saw  that  it  was  use- 
less to  speak,  and  resigned  herself  to  listen  again.  "  Quite 
wonderful,"  he  continued.  "The  fellow  motioned  to  me 
to  come  to  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  and  when  1  got  there 
he  came  over  the  bulwarks  and  dropped  like  a  monkey 
from  one  steel  rope  to  another  till  he  stood  on  the  bob- 
stay  chains. 

"  '  Whist ! '  said  he.  '  Divil  a  word  !  Have  you  got  it 
there  ? ' 

"  '  There  is  some  on  the  yacht,'  I  said,  *  and  I  want  to 
ask  you  some  questions  about  this  pla'.e.  What  island  is 
that  over  there  ? ' 

"  *  Mother  of  Pathrick,'  said  he,  *  an*  did  ye  come  down 
all  the  way  in  your  yacht  and  not  know  Timber  Island 
when  you'd  see  it  ? ' 

"  He  looked  at  me  as  if  I  was  some  strange  being. 
And  where  was  ye  last  night,  might  I  axe  ?  * 


»i  ( 


'■^m 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


127 


**  *  Where  we  are  now,'  I  said. 

"  *  Faith,  it  was  a  big  head  that  brought  you  into  the 
nursery  here  before  last  night  came  on !  More  be-token,  I 
have'nt  had  a  dhry  rag  on  me  for  tin  hours,  and  divil  a  sail 
we've  got  widout  a  shplit  in  it  the  size  of  a  shteam-tug. 
Bring  it  in  a  sody-bottle,  darlint,  and  the  Lord  '11  love  ye 
if  ye  don't  spoil  it.  Whisht,  love  !  You  drink  my  health 
in  the  sody  and  don't  lave  any  in  the  bottle.' 

"  I  came  back  and  got  him  a  soda-bottle  of  the  genu- 
ine article,  and  while  he  drank  it  the  rapidity  of  his 
tongue  was  peculiar.  *  So  you  have  been  here  before  ?  ' 
I  asked. 

" '  Whisht,  darlint !  till  the  captain  won't  hear  you. 
Been  here  before  ?  Begorra,  this  place  has  been  a  mine 
of  goold  to  me  many  a  time.  For  siventeen  days  at  a 
slap  I've  laid  here  in  Dicimber  at  four  dollars  a  day,  with 
nothin'  to  do  but  play  checkers  and  sphlit  wood  for  the 
shtove  and  pray  for  a  gale  o'  wind  down  the  lake  till 
shpring-time.' 

"  This  eloquence  continued  until  I  thought  he  would 
certainly  fall  off  the  bobstay. 

"  *  Tell  me,  now,'  he  said,  after  I  had  got  all  the  in- 
formation I  wanted,  *  have  ye  a  berth  for  an  old  salty 
aboard  that  craft  ? ' 

"  I  said  we  had  not. 

"  *  Faith,  perhaps  you're  right.  I  kin  see  by  the  stow 
on  yer  mainsail  and  by  the  nate  way  yer  heads'ls  is  drag- 
gen'  in  the  wather  that  you're  born  and  bred  up  to  the 
sea  and  don't  require  no  assistance.' 

"  With  these  sarcastic  words  he  gave  me  his  bless- 
ing, threw  away  the  bottle,  and  disappeared  again  over 
the  bow." 

"  I  gather  from  your  remarks  that  your  friend  was 
of  Hibernian  origin,"  said  Margaret.  "  Perhaps  a  good 
dynamiter  spoiled.      But  wc  will  speak  of  him  again. 


V 


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128 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


.V^r^! 


.  Mi'  ^■^ 


i'K;- 


What  I  have  been  wanting  for  some  time  has  been  a  trip 
in  the  canoe  to  the  beach  over  there.  I  want  to  walk  over 
the  sand  bar  and  get  close  to  those  great  breakers  rolling 
in  on  the  shingle.  Unhitch  your  canoe-string  and  bring 
the  canoe  alongside." 

"  Unhitch  your  canoe-string !  "  repeated  Rankin  con- 
temptuously. "  You  must  speak  more  nautically  or  I 
won't  understand  you." 

"  Well,  what  ought  I  to  say  ?  " 

"  Dunno.  *  Cast  adrift  your  towline  *  sounds  well." 
.  "  It  does,  indeed,"  said  Margaret,  as  Morry  swung  the 
liglit  cockleshell  into  position  and  she  descended  into  it 
with  care.  "  '  Cast  adrift  your  towline  '  has  a  full,  able- 
bodied  seaman  sort  of  sound  ;  but  it  has  not  the  charm 
of  mystery  alTout  it  that  some  expressions  have.  Now 
*  athwart  your  hawse '  seems  portentous  in  its  meaning. 
I  don't  want  to  know  what  it  means.  I  would  rather  go 
on  thinking  of  it  as  of  the  arm  that  handed  forth  the 
sword  Excalibur,  *  clothed  in  white  samite — mystic,  won- 
derful.* Do  you  know  I  read  all  Clark  Russell's  sea  stories, 
and  drive  through  all  his  sea-going  technicalities  with  the 
greatest  interest,  although  I  understand  nothing  about 
them.  When  he  goes  aloft  on  the  mainboom  and  brails 
up  his  foregaff-bobstay  I  go  with  him.  Sometimes  he  de- 
scribes how  small  the  deck  below  looks  from  the  dizzy 
height  when,  poised  upon  the  capstan-bars,  he  furls  the 
signal  halyards  that  flap  and  fill  away  and  thunder  in  the 
gale  ;  and  then  I  see  it  all — " 

"  So  do  I,  so  do  I !  "  cried  Morry,  as  he  paddled  dex- 
terously to  the  shore.  "You've  got  Clark  Russell  to  a  T. 
He  goes  on  like  that  by  the  hour  together.  I  read  every 
word,  and  the  beauty  of  it  is  I  always  think  I  understand. 
Why  do  we  like  his  stories  so  much,  I  wonder?" 

"  One  reason  is  because  his  heroes  are  manly  men  and 
have  brave  hearts,"  said  Margaret  confidently.     "I  think 


(;eoffrey  iiampstead. 


129 


that  is  why  they  appeal  to  women  ;  he  always  arouses  a 
sentiment  of  pity  for  the  hero's  misfortunes.  Few  women 
can  resist  that."  And  Margaret,  somewhat  stirred,  looked 
away  over  the  broad  sea.  Almost  unconsciously  there 
flashed  before  her  the  image  of  a  Greek  god  winning  a 
foot-race  under  circumstances  that  aroused  her  sympathy. 
Again  she  saw  him  steering  a  yacht,  keen,  strong,  active, 
determined,  and  calm  amid  excitement.  A  flush  suffused 
her  countenance,  and  her  eyes  became  soft  and  thoughtful 
as  she  gazed  far  away.  Ah,  these  rushes  of  blood  to  the 
head !  How  they  kindle  an  unacknowledged  idea  into 
activity  !  A  moment  and,  like  a  flash,  a  latent,  undevel- 
oped instinct  becomes  a  living  potent  force  to  develop  us. 
The  admirer  becomes  a  lover,  the  plotter  a  criminal,  and 
the  religious  man  a  fanatic. 

When  the  canoe  pushed  its  way  through  the  rushes  and 
beached  itself  upon  the  soft  sand  the  two  jumped  out  and 
crossed  over  to  the  lake  side,  where  the  heavy  ground 
swells  of  the  last  night's  gale  were  still  mounting  high 
upon  the  shingle.  The  bar  leading  toward  them  from 
False  Duck  Island  was  a  seething  expanse  of  white  break- 
ers, and  over  the  lake  to  the  south  and  west,  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach  in  the  now  rarefied  atmosphere  a  tumbling 
mass  of  bright-green  waters  could  be  seen,  which  grew 
blue  in  color  at  the  sharply  cut  horizon.  Not  far  ofif 
the  "  Bark  Swaller  "  was  buffeting  her  way  to  the  south- 
ward, toward  Oswego,  and  around  the  wooded  island  with 
tlie  lighthouse  on  it,  the  mail  steamer,  twelve  hours  de- 
tained, was  getting  a  first  taste  of  the  open  water. 

It  was  a  morning  that  made  the  two  feel  as  if  it  were 
impossible  to  keep  still.  The  flat  shingle,  washed  smooth 
by  the  high  waves  of  the  previous  night,  was  firm  under 
foot  as  they  walked  and  trotted  along  between  the  wreck- 
age and  driftwood  on  one  side  and  the  highest  wash  of 
the  hissing  water  on  the  other.     An  occasional  flight  of 


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iiii 


130 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


small  plover  suggested  the  wildness  of  the  spot,  and  some- 
thing of  the  spirit  of  these  birds  in  their  curving  and 
wheeling  flight  seemed  to  possess  the  two  young  people — 
making  them  run  and  caper  on  the  sands. 

"  You  ought  to  be  able  to  run  a  pretty  good  race,"  said 
Maurice,  glancing  at  the  shapely  figure  of  his  companion. 

**  So  I  am,"  said  Margaret,  as  she  sprang  up  on  a  large 
piece  of  driftwood.  "  I'll  run  you  a  race  to  that  bush  on 
the  far  point  around  the  little  bay.     Do  you  see  it  ? " 

"  I  see  it,"  said  Maurice.     "  Are  you  ready  ?     Go  I  " 

Margaret  sprang  down  from  the  stump  and  was  off  like 
an  arrow.  Morry  thought  it  was  only  a  sham  and  a  pre- 
tense of  hers,  as  he  bounded  off  beside  her.  He  soon 
found  his  mistake,  however,  as  his  unaccustomed  muscles 
did  their  utmost  to  keep  him  abreast  of  the  gliding 
figure  in  the  dark-blue  skirt  and  jersey.  They  rounded 
the  curve  of  the  bay,  Maurice  on  the  inside  track.  But 
this  advantage  did  not  give  him  a  lead.  The  distance  to 
the  winning  point  seemed  fatal  to  his  chances,  but  he 
hung  on,  hoping  his  opponent  would  tire.  Again  he  was 
mistaken. 

"  Come  on,  Morry  !     Don't  be  beaten  by  a  woman." 

Her  voice,  as  she  said  this,  seemed  aggressively  fresh, 
and  the  taunt  brought  Rankin  even  with  her  again.  He 
had  no  breath  left  to  say  anything  in  reply  as  they  came 
to  a  small  indentation  filled  with  water  where  the  shore 
curved  in,  making  another  little  bay.  Margaret  ran  around 
it,  but  Maurice,  as  a  last  chance,  splashed  through  it,  re- 
gardless of  water  up  to  his  ankles.  I  gained  about  ten 
feet  by  this  subterfuge.  A  few  gliding  bounds,  impossible 
to  describe,  and  Margaret  was  beside  him  again. 

"  That  was  a  shabby  advantage  to  <^^ke,"  she  said  as 
she  passed  his  panting  form.  "  Now  I'll  show  you  how 
fast  I  can  run." 

She  left  him  then  as  he  labored  on.     She  floated  away 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


131 


from  him  like  a  thistle-blossom  on  the  breeze.  He  forgot 
his  defeat  in  his  admiration  of  that  fleeting  figure  which 
he  would  have  believed  to  move  in  the  air  had  he  not 
seen  marks  in  the  sand  made  by  toes  of  small  shoes.  He 
could  hardly  comprehend  how  she  could  run  away  from 
him  in  this  way.  Yet  there  was  no  wings  attached  to  the 
lithe  form  before  him.  No  wings,  but  a  bit  of  silk  ankle 
which  seemed  far  preferable. 

Margaret  stopped  at  the  bush  which  was  to  be  the 
winning  post.  Morry  then  staggered  in  exhausted  and 
threw  himself  sideways  into  the  yielding  mass  of  the  wil- 
low bush  and  fell  out  on  the  other  side. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  as  he  rolled  over  r  •-  his  back  with  his 
head  resting  in  his  hands,  "wasn't  tb      beautiful  ?" 

"  The  race — yes,  indeed,  it  was  spicndid." 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  the  race.  That  was  horrible.  I 
mean  to  see  you  run."     (Gasp.) 

Margaret's  face  was  sparkling  with  excitement  and  col- 
or, while  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  after  her  exertion. 

"  I  can  run  fast,  can  I  not  ? "  Her  arms  were  hanging 
demurely  at  her  side  again.  She  could  run,  but  she  never 
seemed  to  be  at  all  masculine. 

"  I  never  ran  a  race  with  a  man  before,"  she  said, 
laughing. 

"  And  never  will  run  another  with  this  individual,"  said 
Rankin.  "  Nothing  goes  so  fast  as  a  train  you  have  missed, 
just  as  it  leaves  the  station,  and  yet  I  have  caught  it  some- 
times. You  can  go  faster  than  anything  I  ever  saw."  (A 
breath.)  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to  know  when  one  is  beaten. 
You  will  always  be  an  uncatchable  distance  before  me." 
(A  sigh.) 

"  My  shoes  are  full  of  sand,"  said  Margaret  ruefully, 
looking  down  at  them. 

"  Mine  are  full  of  water,"  said  Maurice.  He  did  not 
seem  to  care.     He  was  quite  content  to  lie  there  and  gaze 


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132 


GEOFP'REY  HAMPSTEAD. 


at  her  without  reservation.  And,  with  his  heightened 
color  and  excitement,  he  actually  appeared  rather  good 
looking. 

"  I  think  the  least  you  could  do  would  be  to  offer  to 
take  the  sand  out  of  my  shoes,"  said  Margaret. 

"  If  I  don't  have  to  get  up  I  could  do  it.  I  won't  be 
able  to  get  up  for  about  twenty  minutes.  But  if  you  sit 
on  that  stump — so — I  think  I  could  manage  it." 

Resting  on  one  elbow,  he  unlaced  the  shoes,  knocked 
the  sand  out  of  them,  and  spent  a  long  time  over  the  oper- 
ation. Then  he  wondered  at  their  small  size,  and  meas- 
ured them,  sole  to  sole,  with  his  own  boots  while  he  chat- 
tered on,  as  usual,  about  nothing.  Hers  were  not  by  any 
means  microscopic  shoes,  but  they  seemed  so  to  him,  and 
he  regarded  them  with  some  of  the  curiosity  of  the  miners 
of  Blue  Dog  Gulch,  Nevada,  when  a  woman's  boot  ap- 
peared among  them  after  their  two  years'  isolation  from 
the  interesting  sex.  There  was  something  in  the  way  he 
handled  them  that  spoke  of  exile — something  that  stirred 
the  compassion  one  might  feel  on  seeing  the  monks  of  Man 
Saba  tend  their  canaries. 

The  left  shoe  was  put  on  with  great  care,  and  then  he 
sat  looking  over  the  k  e  for  a  while  in  silence  before  be- 
ginning with  the  second.  It  was  a  long,  well-chiseled 
foot,  with  high  instep,  and  none  of  those  knobs  which 
sometimes  necessitate  long  dresses,  and  in  men's  boots 
take  such  a  beautiful  polish.  He  pretended  to  brush 
some  sand  away,  and  then,  bending  over,  kissed  the  silk- 
covered  instep,  and  received  an  admonitory  tap  for  his 
boldness. 

"  Fie,  Morry  !  to  kiss  an  unprotected  lady's  foot,"  said 
Margaret  archly,  as  she  took  the  shoe  from  him  and  put  it 
on  herself.     "  You  have  insulted  me." 

*'  Nay,  Margaret,  'twas  but  the  sign  of  my  allegiance 
and  fealty,"  said  he,  looking  up  with  what  tried  to  be  an 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


iVA- 


133 


off-hand  manner.  "  It  is  the  old  story,"  he  said  lightly  ; 
*'  the  worship  of  the  unattainable — the  remnant,  perhaps,  of 
our  old  nature  worship.  If  you  were  not  better  acquainted 
with  the  subject  than  I  am,  I  could  give  you  a  discourse 
which  would  be,  I  assure  you,  very  instructive  as  to  how 
we  have  always  striven  after  what  we  think  to  be  good  in 
the  unattainable.  We  have  been  forbidden  to  worship  the 
sun  or  to  appease  the  thunders  and  lightnings,  and,  one 
by  one,  nearly  all  the  objects  of  worship  have  been  swept 
away,  leaving  a  world  that  now  does  not  seem  to  know 
what  to  do  with  its  acquired  instincts.  One  object  is  left, 
though,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  men  are  never 
more  thoroughly  admirable  than  when  influenced  by  the 
worship  of  the  women  who  seem  to  them  the  best,  that 
many  thus  come  to  know  the  pricelessness  of  good  and  the 
despair  of  evil,  with  quite  as  satisfactory  practical  results 
as  any  other  creed  could  bring  about." 

"What,  then,  becomes  of  the  search  for  the  t'nattain- 
able  after  marriage  ?  "  asked  Margaret  practically. 

"  I  imagine  that  the  search  would  continue,  that  th» 
greatest  peace  of  marriage  is  the  consciousness  of  approach- 
ing good  in  being  assisted  to  live  up  to  a  woman's  higher 
ideals.  It  seems  as  if  the  condition  of  Milton's  idyllic 
pair — 'he  for  God  only,  she  for  God  t'n  /urn' — has  but 
little  counterpart  in  real  lif^,  and  that,  in  a  thousand 
cases  to  one,  the  morality  of  the  wife  is  the  main  chance 
of  the  husband." 

*'  I  understand,  then,  that  we  are  to  be  worshiped  as  a 
means  toward  the  improvement  of  our  husbands.  I  was 
hoping,"  said  Margaret  smiling,  "  that  you  were  going  to 
prove  us  to  be  real  goddesses,  worthy  of  devotion  for  our- 
selves— without  more." 

**  You  are  raising  a  well-worn  question — as  to  what  men 
worship  when  they  bow  before  a  shrine.  If  you  were  the 
shrine,  I  should  say  generally  the  shrine.     At  other  times 


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134 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


[  i 


'! 


they  worship  that  which  the  shrine  suggests.  What  I 
mean  is,  that  it  is  a  good  thing  for  one  to  have  a  power 
with  him  capable  of  improving  all  the  good  that  is  in 
him.  For  myself,  the  point  is  somewhat  wanting  in  inter- 
est, as  I  never  expect  to  be  able  to  put  it  to  a  practical 
test." 

"  Not  get  married,  Maurice  ?  Why  will  you  never  get 
married  ?  " 

"  I  intended  to  have  casually  mentioned  the  reason  a 
minute  ago,  only  you  interrupted  me  just  as  I  was  coming 
to  the  interesting  part." 

**  Then  tell  me  now,  and  I  won't  interrupt." 

"  Well,  you  know  I  am  like  the  small  boys  who  want 
pie,  and  won't  eat  anything  if  they  don't  get  it,"  said  he, 
striving  to  be  prosaic.  **  I  love  you  far  too  well  to  make 
it  possible  for  me  to  marry  anybody  else." 

In  spite  of  the  assistance  that  pulling  his  hair  gave 
him,  as  his  head  lay  back  in  his  hands,  his  voice  shook 
and  his  form  stiffened  out  along  the  sand  in  a  way  that 
.told  of  struggle.  Margaret  was  surprised,  bat  she  hardly 
yet  understood  the  matter  enough  to  feel  pained.  She 
had  not  been  led  to  expect  that  men  would  first  express 
their  love  while  lying  on  their  backs. 

"  I  thought  I  would  tell  you  of  it,  as  you  would  then 
know  how  particularly  well  you  could  trust  me — as  your 
friend — a  very  faithful  one.  You  know,  even  in  my  pres- 
ent state,  I  would  be  full  of  hope,  if  things  were  differ- 
ent, because  the  money  is  bound  to  come  sooner  or  later ; 
but  you,  Margaret,  I  know,  without  your  words,  will  never 
be  attainable — that  the  moon  would  be  more  easy  for  me 
to  grasp." 

Margaret  was  not  often  at  a  loss  for  a  word,  but 
now  she  knew  not  what  to  say.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  any- 
thing could  be  said.  She  essayed  to  speak ;  but  he  stopped 
her. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


135 


*  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  he  said.  "  They  would 
be  kind  words  in  their  tone,  full  of  sympathy,  words  that 
I  love  to  hear— that  I  hear  like  music  in  my  ears  when 
you  are  out  of  sight  ?  You  must,  and  I  know  you  will,  for- 
give me  for  all  these  confessions,"  said  he,  smiling.  "You 
have  made  such  a  change  come  over  my  life.  You  have 
given  me  so  much  happiness." 

**I  don't  see  how,"  said  Margaret,  not  knowing  what 
to  say. 

"  No — you  could  hardly  know  why.  If  you  knew 
what  a  different  life  I  have  led  from  that  of  others  you 
would  understand  better  the  real  happiness  you  have 
given  me.  My  life  of  late  years  has  been  unlovely.  I 
have  not  had  the  soft  influences  of  a  home  as  it  should 
be,  but  I  have  always  yearned  for  them." 

The  pretense  of  being  off-hand  in  his  manner  had  left 
him.  He  talked  disjointedly,  and  with  effort.  "  You  can 
not  know  what  it  is  to  feel  continually  the  want  of  affec- 
tion. You  have  never  hungered  for  the  luxury  of  being  in 
some  way  cared  for.  But  these  weaknesses  of  mine  will 
not  bore  you,  because  you  are  kind.  It  will  make  my 
case  plainer  when  I  tell  you  that  for  years — as  long  as  I 
can  remember — there  never  has  been  a  night  that  a  long- 
ing for  the  presence  of  my  parents  has  not  come  over  me. 
Until  I  saw  you.  Now  you  have  come  to  fill  the  gap. 
Now  I  think  of  you,  and  listen  to  your  voice,  and  look  at 
your  face,  and  care  for  you.  You  fill  more  places  in  my 
heart  than  you  know  of.  You  are  father  and  mother  and 
all  beside  to  me,  and  I  shall  go  back  to  my  dreary  life 
gladder  for  this  experience,  this  love  for  you  which  will 
remain  with  me  always.  Still,  it  is  dreadful  to  look  into 
a  future  of  loneliness !  Oh,  Margaret,  it  is  dreadful  to 
be  always  alone — always  alone." 

Margaret  was  watching  the  part  of  his  face  not  covered 
with  his  cap  as  his  words  were  ground  out  haltingly,  and 


1 ' 


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it 

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I: 


136 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


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m 


she  could  see  his  lips  twitch  as  old  memories  mingled 
with  his  present  emotions.  As  he  proceeded  she  saw 
from  his  simple  words  how  deep-seated  were  his  affec- 
tions, and  she  wondered  at  the  way  he  had  concealed  his 
love  for  her.  A  great  compassion  for  him  was  welling  up 
in  her  heart.  As  she  listened  to  his  words,  it  came  upon 
her  what  it  might  be  to  love  deeply  and  then  to  find  that 
it  only  led  to  disappointment.  She  felt  glad  that  she  had 
given  him  some  happiness — glad  when  he  said  he  could 
look  forward  more  cheerfully  to  going  back  to  his  hope- 
less existence.  It  was  brave  to  speak  of  it  thus — asking 
nothing.  But  when  he  said  it  was  dreadful  to  be  alone — 
always  alone — his  voice  conveyed  the  idea  of  horror  to 
her,  and,  in  a  moment,  without  knowing  exactly  why,  the 
tears  were  in  her  eyes,  and  she  was  kneeling  beside  him 
on  the  sand  asking  what  could  be  done,  and  blaming  her- 
self for  giving  him  trouble.  Her  touch  upon  his  hand 
thrilled  him.  He  dared  not  remove  his  cap.  He  dared 
not  look  at  her  for  very  fear  of  his  happiness ;  but  then 
he  heard  a  half  sob  in  her  voice,  and  that  cured  him. 
It  would  never  do  for  her  to  be  weeping.  He  had  said 
too  much,  he  thoucjht.  He  partly  sat  up,  leaning  upon 
his  hand,  and  was  himself  again.  Margaret  was  looking 
at  him  (so  beautiful  with  her  dewy  eyes),  with  but  one 
thought  in  her  mind,  which  was  how  to  be  kind  to  him, 
how  to  make  up  to  him  some  of  the  care  that  his  life  had 
been  shorn  of.  It  was  all  done  in  a  moment.  Margaret 
said  tearfully,  "  Oh,  what  can  I  do  ?  "  and  Rankin's  native 
quickness  was  present  with  him.  He  leaned  forward,  in- 
spired by  a  new  thought,  and  said,  "Kiss  me,"  and  Mar- 
garet, knowing  nothing  but  a  great  compassion  for  him,  in 
which  self  was  entirely  forgotten,  said :  "  Indeed,  I  will,  if 
you  would  care  for  that." 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


^37 


CHAPTER   XI. 


YACHTING     ONLY. 


^ 
/ 

^ 


if 


Some  hearts  might  have  yearned  to  have  been  on  board 
during  the  fishing  in  Hay  Bay,  and  to  have  enjoyed  those 
evenings  when  the  yacht  anchored  in  the  twilight  calm, 
beside  rocky  shores,  or  near  waving  banks  of  sedge  and 
rushes,  where  the  whip-poor-will  and  bull  frog  supplied 
all  the  necessary  music.  I  abandon  all  that  occurred  at 
pretty  Picton  and  Belleville,  but  I  must  not  forget  the  little 
episode  that  happened  one  evening  near  Indian  Point  as 
the  yacht  was  on  her  way  to  Kingston.  A  fresh  breeze 
had  been  blowing  during  the  afternoon,  and  the  two  reefs, 
taken  in  for  comfort's  sake,  still  remained  in  the  mainsail, 
as  no  one  after  dinner  felt  equal  to  the  exertion  of  shak- 
ing them  out.  The  wind  had  almost  died  away  as  they 
approached  Indian  Point,  and  not  far  off,  on  the  other 
side  of  this  long,  narrow  arm  of  the  sea  called  the  Bay  of 
Quinte,  lay  MacDonald's  Cove,  a  snug  little  place  for 
anchorage  in  any  kind  of  weather.  A  heavy  bank  of 
clouds  was  rapidly  rising  over  the  hills  in  the  west,  and 
hastening  up  the  sky  to  extinguish  the  bright  moon  that 
had  been  making  a  fairy  landscape  of  the  bay  and  its  sur- 
roundings, and  the  barometer  was  falling  rapidly. 

This  condition  of  affairs  Jack  reported  to  Charley,  who 
was  below  with  several  others  having  a  little  game  in 
which  the  word  "  ante  **  seemed  to  be  used  sometimes  in  a 
tone  of  reproach.  Charles  answered  gayly,  without  look- 
ing away  from  the  game,  that  Jack  had  better  get  the 
yacht  into  the  Cove  while  there  was  wind  to  take  her 
there,  and  Jack,  who  observed  that  he  was  "  seeing  "  and 
"  raising "  an  antagonist  for  the  fifth  time  on  a  pair  of 
fours,  thought  a  man  should  not  be  disturbed  at  such  a 


.3 


'3 

3 


■:> 


:3 


138 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


1^.. 

h 


'-W» 


III 


I  I 


PI 


time,  and  went  on  deck  to  shake  out  the  reefs  so  as  to 
drift  into  the  Cove,  if  possible,  before  the  storm  came  on. 
But  when  in  the  middle  of  the  bay  the  wind  gave  out  en- 
tirely. For  half  an  hour  the  Ideal  lay  becalmed  and  mo- 
tionless. Oilskin  suits  and  sou'westers  were  donned.  Now 
fringes  of  whitish  scud,  torn  from  the  driving  clouds,  could 
be  seen  flying  past  the  bleared  moon,  and  it  seemed  in  the 
increasing  darkness,  while  they  were  waiting  for  the  tumult, 
as  if  the  shores  around  contracted,  so  as  to  give  the  yacht 
no  space  for  movement.  Jack  took  the  compass  bear- 
ings of  the  lighthouse,  expecting  soon  to  be  in  total  dark- 
ness, and  he  had  both  anchors  prepared  for  instant  use. 
The  sails  had  been  close-reefed,  but  after  being  reefed 
they  were  lowered  again  so  as  to  present  nothing  but  bare 
poles  to  the  squall.  The  darkness  came  on  and  grew  in- 
tense. Between  the  rapidly  increasing  peals  of  thunder 
the  squall  could  be  heard  approaching,  moaning  over  the 
hills  in  the  west  and  down  the  bay  as  if  ravening  for  prey, 
while  the  lightning  seemed  to  take  a  savage  delight  in 
spearing  the  distant  cliffs  which,  in  the  flashes,  were  beau- 
tifully outlined  in  silhouette  against  an  electric  atmosphere. 
Still  the  yacht  lay  motionless  in  the  dead  air  difficult  to 
breathe  and  oppressive  ;  and  still  Charley  continued  to 
"  raise  "  and  get  "  raised  "  in  the  cheerfully  lighted  cabin, 
whence  the  laughter  and  the  talk  of  the  game  mingled 
strangely,  in  the  ears  of  those  on  deck,  with  the  sounds  of 
the  coming  tempest.  Margaret,  with  her  head  out  of  the 
companionway,  watched  the  scene  with  a  nervousness 
that  impending  electrical  storms  oppressed  her  with.  Her 
quick  eyes  soon  caught  sight  of  something  on  the  water, 
not  far  off.  A  mystic  line  of  white  could  be  seen  coming 
along  the  surface.  She  asked  what  it  was  at  a  moment 
when  the  deadness  and  blackness  of  the  air  seemed  appall- 
ing, and  the  ear  was  filled  with  strange  swishing  sounds. 
She  never  heard  any  answer.     Another  instant  and  the 


■'^vm 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


139 


yacht  heeled  over  almost  to  the  rail  in  that  line  of  white 
water,  which  the  whips  of  the  tornado  had  lashed  into 
spume.  Blinding  sheets  of  spray,  picked  up  by  the  wind 
from  the  surface  of  water,  flew  over  those  on  dock,  and 
instantly  the  lee  scuppers  were  gushing  with  the  rain  and 
spray  which  deluged  the  decks.  Word  was  carried  forward 
by  a  messenger  from  the  wheel  to  hoist  a  bit  of  headsail, 
and  when  this  was  immediately  done  the  yacht  paid  off 
before  the  squall,  running  easterly,  with  all  the  furies  after 
her.  The  darkness  was  so  great  that  it  was  impossible  to 
see  one's  hand  close  to  one's  eyes.  The  thunderclaps 
near  at  hand  were  rendered  more  terrific  by  the  echoes 
from  the  hills,  and  only  while  the  lightning  clothed  the 
vessel  in  a  spectral  glare  could  they  see  one  another. 
Still  the  yacht  sped  on,  while  Jack  jealously  watched  the 
binnacle  where  the  only  guide  was  to  be  found.  The 
Indian  Point  light,  though  not  far  off,  was  completely 
blotted  out  by  the  rain,  which  seemed  to  fall  in  solid 
masses,  and  even  the  lightning  failed  to  indicate  the 
shores  or  otherwise  reveal  their  position. 

A  wild  career,  such  as  they  were  now  pursuing,  must 
end  somewhere,  and  in  the  narrow  rock-bound  locality 
they  were  flying  through,  the  chance  of  keeping  to  the 
proper  channel  entirely  by  compass  and  chart  did  not  by 
any  means  amount  to  a  certainty.  Nor  was  anchoring  in 
the  middle  of  the  highway  to  be  thought  of,  especially  as 
some  trading  vessels  were  known  to  be  in  the  vicinity. 
The  chance  of  being  cut  down  by  them  was  too  great. 
Jack  felt  that  an  error  now  might  cause  the  loss  of  the 
yacht.  After  calculating  a  variation  of  the  compass  in 
these  parts,  he  decided  to  run  before  the  gale  for  a  while 
and  keep  in  the  channel  if  possible — hoping  for  a  lull  in 
the  downfall  of  rain,  so  that  his  whereabouts  could  be  dis- 
covered. 

A  high  chopping  sea  was  driving  the  yacht  on,  while 


•  ' .: 


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t 

I*  . 
■  m 


fjifri-f 


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1 

J 

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3 


' 


140 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


^^U   4--  ,   » 


■V'l 


she  scudded  under  bare  poles  before  tlie  gale,  and  Jack 
had  been  for  some  little  time  endeavoring  to  estimate  their 
rate  of  speed  when  the  deluge  seemed  to  abate  partly  and 
the  glimmer  of  a  light  could  be  seen  to  the  southward.  A 
sailor  called  out  "There's  Indian  Point  light."  If  it  had 
been  the  light  he  mentioned  they  would  have  had  all  they 
wanted.  Jack  feared  they  had  run  past  it,  but,  to  make 
sure,  he  asked  the  sailors  their  opinion.  They  all  said  they 
were  certain  it  was  Indian  Point  light.  One  of  them  de- 
clared he  had  seen  the  lighthouse  itself  in  one  of  the 
flashes.  So  Jack  had  the  peak  of  the  mainsail  partly 
hoisted  and  they  drew  around  to  the  southward,  so  as  to 
anchor  under  the  lee  of  the  lighthouse  point.  As  the 
yacht  came  round  sideways  to  the  wind  she  lay  down  to  it 
and  moved  slowly  and  heavily  through  the  short  angry 
seas  that,  hitting  the  side,  threw  spray  all  over  her.  Jack 
was  feeling  his  way  carefully  and  slowly  through  the  inky 
blackness  of  the  night  with  the  lead-line  going  to  show 
the  depth  of  the  water,  when  the  lookout  on  the  bowsprit- 
end,  after  they  had  proceeded  a  considerable  distance  to 
the  south,  suddenly  cried  "  Breakers  ahead ! "  and  he 
tumbled  inboard  off  the  bowsprit,  as  if  he  thought  the 
boat  about  to  strike  at  once.  "  Let  her  go  round,  sir,  for 
God's  sake  !  We're  right  on  the  rocks." 

Jack,  back  at  the  wheel,  had  not  been  able  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  foaming  rocks  in  the  lightning  which  the 
man  on  the  bowsprit  had  seen.  He  despaired  of  the  boat's 
going  about,  but  he  tried  it.  The  high  chopping  sea 
stopped  the  yacht  at  once.  He  knew  it  was  asking  too 
much  of  her  to  come  about  with  so  little  way  on,  and  the 
canvas  all  in  a  bag,  so,  as  there  was  evidently  no  room  to 
wear  the  ship,  he  had  the  big  anchor  dropped.  His  in- 
tention was  to  come  about  by  means  of  his  anchor  and  get 
out  on  the  other  tack  into  the  channel  and  anywhere  away 
from   the  rocks  and  the  breakers  that   could   be  heard 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


141 


above  the  tempest  roaring  close  to  them  on  the  port  side. 
While  the  chain  was  being  paid  out,  the  close-reefed  main- 
sail was  hoisted  up  to  do  its  work  properly.  The  storm 
staysail  was  also  hoisted  and  sheeted  home  on  the  port 
side  to  back  her  head  off  from  the  land.  As  this  was  be- 
ing done,  the  sailors  paid  out  the  anchor-chain  rapidly. 
To  do  so  more  quickly  they  carelessly  threw  it  off  the 
winch  and  let  it  smoke  through  the  hawse-pipe  at  its  own 
pace.  But  suddenly  there  came  a  check  to  it,  which,  in 
the  darkness,  could  not  be  accounted  for.  A  bight  or  a 
knot  in  the  chain  had  come  up  and  got  jammed  some- 
where, and  now  it  refused  to  run  out.  The  Ideal  imme- 
diately straightened  out  the  cable,  and,  at  the  moment, 
all  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  would  have 
been  powerless  to  clear  it.  Jack  came  forward,  and  with  a 
lantern  discovered  how  things  were.  '*  Never  mind,"  he 
thought.  "  If  she  will  lie  here  for  a  while  no  harm  will  be 
done."  In  the  mean  time,  while  the  men  were  getting  a 
tackle  rigged  to  haul  up  a  bit  of  the  chain,  so  as  to  obtain 
control  of  it  again,  the  rain  ceased  to  fall,  while  the  light- 
ning, by  which  alone  the  men  could  see  to  work,  served 
only  to  make  the  succeeding  darkness  more  profound. 

The  place  they  had  sailed  into  was  on  the  north  shore 
of  Amherst  Island.  As  Jack  feared,  the  sailors  had  been 
wrong  in  thinking  that  the  light  they  saw  was  the  one  on 
Indian  Point.  It  was  a  lantern  on  a  schooner  which  had 
gone  ashore  on  the  rocks  close  to  where  the  Ideal  now  lay. 

The  worst  of  their  anxiety  was,  however,  yet  to  come. 
During  a  vivid  flash,  after  the  rain  had  partly  cleared 
away,  a  reef  of  rocks  was  discovered  a  short  distance  off, 
trending  out  from  the  shore  directly  behind  the  yacht. 
Jack  had  been  lying  with  his  hand  on  the  cable  to  feel 
whether  the  anchor  was  holding  or  not.  He  soon  found 
that  the  yacht  was  "dragging."  The  sails  were  lowered 
at  once,  and  the  second  anchor  was  left  go,  in  the  hope 


^  •ilij 


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ifi 


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f'l 


142 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


that  it  might  catch  hold  when  the  first  one  had  dragged 
back  far  enough  to  allow  the  second  to  work. 

With  the  rocks  behind  waiting  for  them,  it  was  now  a 
question  of  anchors  holding,  or  nothing — yacht  or  no  yacht. 
Every  moment  as  she  pitched  and  ducked  and  tossed 
against  the  driving  seas  and  wind  she  dropped  back  to- 
ward a  black  mass  over  which  the  waves  broke  savagely. 
The  yacht  was  literally  locked  up  to  the  big  anchor.  They 
could  neither  haul  up  nor  pay  out  its  cable,  so  that,  until 
this  was  remedied  by  means  of  a  tackle  (which  takes 
some  time  in  a  jumping  sea  and  darkness)  sailing  again 
was  impossible.  Carefully  they  paid  out  chain  enough  for 
the  second  anchor  to  do  its  work.  Not  till  they  were 
close  to  the  rocks  did  they  allow  any  strain  to  come  upon 
it.  Then  they  took  a  turn  on  its  chain  and  waited  to  see 
how  it  would  hold. 

Feeling  the  cable,  when  tnere  is  nothing  to  hope  for 
but  that  the  hook  will  do  its  work,  is  a  quiet  though 
anxious  occupation.  Jack  waited  for  the  sensations  in  the 
hand  which  will  often  tell  whether  the  anchor  is  holding 
or  not,  and  then  rose,  and  in  the  moonlight  which  now 
began  to  break  through  the  clouds  his  face  looked  anx- 
ious. **  Flat  rock,"  he  muttered,  "  with  a  layer  of  mud 
on  it." 

By  this  time  the  men  had  got  control  of  the  big 
anchor's  chain  again  and  had  knocked  the  kink  out  of  it. 
But  there  was  no  room  now  to  slip  cables  and  sail  off. 
The  rocks  were  too  close.  The  idea  struck  him  of  wind- 
ing in  the  first  anchor  a  bit — in  the  hope  that  it  might 
catch  in  a  crack  in  the  rock,  or  on  a  bowlder,  before  it  got 
even  with  the  second  one. 

This  proved  of  no  use,  and  the  yacht  was  now  ap- 
proaching, stern-first,  the  point  or  outward  rock  of  the 
reef  which  stood  up  boldly  in  the  water.  Only  a  few  feet 
now  separated  this  outside  rock  from  the  counter  of  the 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


143 


ap- 
the 
feet 
the 


yacht.     In  two  minutes  more  the  stern  would  be  dashing 
itself  into  matches. 

Jack's  brain,  you  may  be  sure,  was  on  the  keen  look- 
out for  expedients.  He  had  the  mainsail  hoisted  and  the 
staysail  flattened  down  to  the  port  side — so  as  to  back  her 
head  off.  He  hoped  by  this  possibly  to  grind  off  the  rocks 
by  his  sails  after  striking,  and  by  then  slipping  his  cables  to 
get  out  into  deep  water  before  the  stern  was  completely 
stove  in.  But  while  this  was  being  done  the  thought 
came  into  his  mind  whether  the  stern  might  not  clear  the 
outer  rock  without  hitting  it.  The  changeable  gusts  of 
wind  had  been  swinging  the  yacht  sidewise — first  a  little 
one  way  and  then  a  little  the  other.  At  the  time  he 
looked  back  at  the  yacht,  they  were  just  about  near 
enough  to  strike  when  the  wind  shifted  her  a  little  toward 
the  north,  and  for  a  moment  the  stern  pointed  clear  of  the 
outer  rock.  His  first  idea  was  that  the  wind  was  shifting 
permanently.  But  suddenly  it  came  to  him  that  this 
might  be  his  only  chance.  He  did  not  wait  to  command 
others,  but  flew  to  the  anchor  chains  and  threw  off  the 
coils.  The  yacht  shot  astern  like  the  recoil  of  a  cannon. 
He  threw  the  chains  clear  of  the  windlass  so  that  the  ves- 
sel could  dart  backward  without  any  check.  It  seemed 
a  mad  thing  to  do — to  let  both  anchors  go  overboard — 
but  it  was  a  madness  which  when  successful  is  called 
genius.  It  was  genius  to  conceive  and  carry  out  the 
idea  in  an  instant,  and  single  handed,  too,  as  if  he  were 
the  only  one  on  the  boat,  genius  to  know  quickly  enough 
exactly  how  the  vessel  would  act.  Half  a  dozen  seconds 
sufficed  to  throw  off  the  chains,  and  then  he  got  back  to 
the  wheel,  steering  her  as  she  went  backward  grazing  her 
paint  only  against  the  rock,  while  the  chains  rushed  out 
like  a  whirlwind  over  the  bows.  The  staysail  sheets  had 
already  been  flattened  down  on  the  port  side  and  the 
yacht's  head  paid  off  fast  on  the  port  tack,  while  Jack 


•••3  ;ii|i 


:'|1 


J 
i 

3 


'ml 


144 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


■a 


Lt  ■ 


m 


ih 


('• 


rapidly  slacked  the  main  sheet  well  off,  and  as  she  gath- 
ered way  and  plunged  out  into  the  open  channel,  an  un- 
derstanding of  the  quick  idea  that  had  saved  the  vessel 
trickled  through  the  brains  of  the  hired  men.  Instead  of 
climbing  to  the  r  from  a  sinking  yacht,  as  they  ex- 

pected to  be  doing  u,t  tliis  moment,  here  they  were  heading 
out  into  deep  water  again — with  the  old  packet  good  as 
new. 

Cresswell  called  to  the  mate  to  keep  her  "jogging 
around  "  till  he  spoke  to  the  owner  about  getting  back 
the  anchors,  and  then  went  below  with  the  other  men  of 
the  party  who  had  remained  on  deck  throughout  the  un- 
comfortable affair. 

The  workers  on  deck,  who  looked  like  submarine 
divers,  slipped  out  -^f  their  oil-skins  and  descended  from 
the  deck  to  the  g  abin  below.  Charley  still  continued 
to  "  raise  "  and  get  raised  "  with  a  pertinacity  which  de- 
fied the  elements.  His  game  had  had  the  effect  of  mak- 
ing his  mother  and  the  others  think,  in  spite  of  their 
tremors,  that  the  danger  lay  chiefly  in  their  own  minds, 
and,  under  the  circumstances,  Charley  had  no  easy  time 
of  it.  He  had  listened  to  every  sound,  and  knew  a 
good  deal  more  about  the  proximity  of  the  rocks,  and  the 
trouble  generally,  than  any  one  would  have  supposed. 

He  decided  not  to  attempt  to  pick  up  the  anchors  that 
night,  so  they  beat  back  to  MacDonald's  Cove,  where  they 
entered,  in  the  moonlight,  and  made  fast  for  the  night  to 
some  trees  beside  a  steep  rocky  shore. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD.  145 


CHAPTER    XII. 

BA88AKIO :        So  may  the  outward  shows  be  least  themselTes ; 
The  world  is  still  deceived  with  ornament. 
In  law,  what  plea  so  tainted  and  corrupt, 
But,  being  sea.soned  with  a  gracious  voice, 
Obscures  the  show  of  evil  ?     In  religion, 
What  dammed  error,  but  some  sober  brow 
Will  bless  it,  and  approve  it  with  a  text, 
Hiding  the  grossness  with  fair  ornament  ? 
.••.•••••t>«« 

Salarino  :        My  wind,  cooling  my  broth, 

Would  blow  me  to  an  ague  when  I  thought 
What  harm  a  wind  too  great  might  do  at  sea. 

Should  I  go  to  church, 
And  see  the  holy  edifice  of  stone. 
And  not  bethink  me  straight  of  dangerous  rocks  ? 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

When  approaching  from  the  west  among  picturesque 
islands  and  past  wooded  points  of  land,  our  old  city  of 
Kingston  affords  the  traveler  a  pleasant  scene.  Above  the 
blue  and  green  expanse  of  her  spacious  harbor,  the  peni- 
tentiary with  its  high  wall  and  surrounding  turrets  suggests 
the  Canadian  justice  we  are  proud  of ;  and,  further  up, 
rises  the  asylum,  suggestive  only  of  Canadian  lunacy,  for 
which  we  do  not  claim  pre-eminence,  while  beyond,  som*; 
little  spires  and  domes,  sparkling  in  the  sun,  are  seen  over 
the  tops  of  some  English-looking  stone  residences,  where 
the  grassy  lawns  stretch  down  to  the  line  of  waves  break- 
ing on  the  rocky  shore.  Further  off  one  sees  the  vessel- 
masts  along  the  ship-yards  and  docks ;  here  and  there 
some  small  Martello  forts  try  to  look  formidable;  large 
vessels  cross  and  recross  the  harbor,  while  others  lie  at 
anchor  drying  their  sails ;  and  beyond  all,  on  the  hill  at 
the  back,  rises  the  garrison  walls,  where — 

In  spite  of  all  temptation, 
Dynamite  and  annexation, 
10 


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146 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


ISIIiiii!! 


f: 


f.lii'SlIN' 


It' 

M                5 

■» -, 

I        : 

.,1                      i 

' 

Canada  is  content,  for  the  present  at  least,  to  see  the  Eng- 
lish flag  instead  of  our  own. 

As  our  friends  came  on  deck  the  next  morning  (Sunday) 
they  were  able  to  enjoy  this  pleasant  approach  to  Kingston. 
Mrs.  Dusenall  and  others  had  wished  to  attend  church  if 
possible  in  the  limestone  city,  and  an  early  start  had  been 
made  by  the  sailors  long  before  the  guests  were  awake.  The 
wind  came  lightly  from  the  southward,  which  allowed  them 
to  pick  up  the  anchors  without  difficulty,  and  it  took  but  a 
short  time  to  sweep  in  past  the  city  and  "  come  to  "  off 
the  barrack's  wharf,  where  a  gun  was  ceremoniously  fired 
as  the  anchor  was  lowered  from  the  catheads. 

Mrs.  Dusenall  piped  all  hands  for  divine  service. 
They  came  out  of  the  ark  two  by  two  and  filed  up  the 
streets  in  that  order  until  the  church  was  reached.  The 
boys  came  out  in  "  heavy  marching  order  " — Sunday  coats, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing — which  made  a  vast  change  from 
the  picturesque  and  rather  buccaneer-like  appearance  they 
presented  on  the  yacht. 

If  a  traveling  circus  had  proceeded  up  the  center  aisle 
of  the  attractively  decorated  edifice,  no  greater  curiosity 
could  have  been  exhibited  among  the  worshipers.  Mrs. 
Dusenall  had  some  of  the  imposing  mien  of  a  drum-major 
as  she  led  her  gallant  band  to  seats  at  the  head  of  the 
church,  and  Charley  was  justly  proud  of  the  fine  appear- 
ance they  made.  He  had  surveyed  them  all  with  pleasure 
while  on  the  sidewalk  outside,  and  had  paid  the  usher 
half  a  dollar  to  lead  them  all  together  to  front  seats. 
Walk  as  lightly  as  they  could,  it  was  impossible  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  church  to  prevent  their  entrance  from  sounding 
like  that  of  soldiery,  and  once  the  eyes  of  the  worshipers 
rested  on  the  noble  troop  they  became  fixed  there  for 
some  time.  There  was  a  ruddy,  bronzed  look  about  the 
yachting  men's  faces  which,  innocent  of  limestone  dust, 
tended  to  deny  the  almost  aggressive  respectability  which 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


147 


good  tailoring  and  cruelty  collars  attempted  to  claim  for 
them.  In  the  hearts  of  the  fair  Kingstonians  who  glanred 
toward  them  there  arose  visions  of  lawn-tennis,  boating, 
and  buccaneer  costumes  suggested  by  that  remarkably 
able-bodied  and  healthy  appearance  which  a  fashionable^ 
walk,  bank  trousers,  and  a  gauzy  umbrella  may  do  much 
to  modify  but  can  not  obliterate.  As  for  the  male  devo- 
tees, it  was  touching  to  mark  their  interest  in  Margaret 
as  she  went  up  the  aisle  keeping  step  with  the  shortened 
pace  of  the  long-limbed  Geoffrey.  The  clergyman  was 
just  saying  that  the  scriptures  moved  them  in  sundry 
places  when  all  at  once  he  became  a  mere  cipher  to  them. 
After  their  first  thrill  at  the  beauty  of  her  face,  their  eyes 
followed  Margaret  and  that  wonderful  movement  of  hers 
that  made  her,  as  with  a  well-ordered  regiment,  almost  as 
dangerous  in  the  retreat  as  in  the  advance.  But  Nina 
came  along  close  behind  her,  and  those  who,  though  dis- 
abled, survived  the  first  volley  were  slaughtered  to  a 
man  when  the  rich  charms  of  her  appearance  won  her  a 
triumph  all  her  own.  Jack,  walking  by  her  side,  full  of 
gravity  but  happy,  took  in  the  situation  with  pride  at 
her  silent  success.  Then  all  the  others  followed,  and 
when  they  were  installed  in  a  body  in  the  three  front 
pews,  and  after  they  had  all  bowed  their  heads  and  the 
gentlemen  had  carefully  perused  the  legend  printed  in 
their  hats — **  Lincoln  Bennett  &  Coy,  Sackville  Street, 
Piccadilly,  London.  Manufactured  expressly  for  Jas.  H. 
Rogers,  Toronto  and  Winnipeg" — they  got  their  books 
open  and  admitted  that  they  had  done  things  they  ought 
not  to  have  done  and  that  there  was  no  health  in  them. 

The  interior  of  the  church  was  a  luxury  to  the  eye  in 
its  mellow  coloring  from  stained-glass  windows  and  care- 
fully-arranged lights,  and  in  its  banners,  altar-cloths,  em- 
broidery, and  church  millinery  generally,  it  left  little  to 
be  desired.     The  clergyman  was  a  young  unmarried  off- 


0 

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148 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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spring  of  a  high-church  college  who,  with  a  lofty  disre- 
gard for  general  knowledge,  had  acquired  a  great  deal  of 
theology.  He  it  was  who  arranged  that  dim  religious 
light  about  the  altar  and  walled  up  a  neighboring  window 
so  that  the  burning  of  candles  seemed  to  become  neces- 
sary. Never  having  been  out  of  America,  it  was  difficult 
to  imagine  where  he  acquired  the  ultra-English  pronunci- 
ation that  had  all  those  flowing  "  ah  "  sounds  which  after 
a  while  make  all  words  so  pleasantly  alike  in  the  high- 
pitched  reading  of  prayers  when,  it  may  be  inferred,  that 
word-meanings  are  perhaps  of  minor  import.  It  seemed 
that  he  alone  was,  from  the  holiness  of  his  office,  qualified 
to  enter  that  mysterious  place  at  the  head  of  the  chan- 
cel where,  with  his  back  to  the  congregation,  at  stated 
times  he  went  through  certain  genuflexions  and  other 
movements  in  which  the  general  public  did  not  partici- 
pate further  than  to  admire  the  splendor  of  his  back.  The 
effect  of  the  many  mysteries  on  some  of  the  Kingston  men 
was  to  keep  them  away  from  the  church.  A  few  fathers 
of  families  and  others  came  to  please  wives,  sweethearts, 
or  clients,  and  in  the  cool,  agreeable  edifice  enjoyed  some 
respectable  slumber  or  watched  the  proceedings  with  mild 
curiosity  or  had  their  ears  filled  either  with  good  music 
or  the  agreeable  sound  of  the  intoning. 

The  effect  of  the  little  mysteries  on  the  well-to-do 
women  of  the  church  (for  it  was  no  place  for  a  poor  man's 
family)  was  varied.  On  the  large-eyed,  nervous,  impres- 
sionable, and  imaginative  virgins — those  who  could  always 
be  found  ready  in  the  days  of  human  sacrifices — the  cler- 
gyman's mysteries  and  the  exercise  of  the  power  of  the 
Church,  as  exhibited  in  the  continual  working  of  his 
strong  will  upon  them,  had  of  course  the  usual  results  in 
enfeebling  their  judgment  and  in  rendering  them  very 
subservient.  In  the  case  of  some  unimaginative  ma- 
trons and  more  level-headed  girls  these  attractions  did 


■  m 

•i  V  i  i' 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


149 


not  unfit  them  for  every-day  life  more  than  continual 
theatre-going,  and  they  took  a  pride  in  and  enjoyed  a 
sense  of  quasi-ownership  in  the  man  whom  it  tickled 
their  fancy  to  clothe  in  gorgeous  raiment.  To  these  solid, 
pleasure-loving,  good-natured  women,  whose  religion  was 
inextricably  mixed  up  with  romance,  the  mysteries,  side- 
shows, and  formalities  of  their  splendid  proUg^  brought 
satisfaction ;  and  in  their  social  gatherings  they  discussed 
the  doings  of  their  favorite  much  as  a  syndicate  of  owners 
might,  in  the  pride  of  ownership,  discuss  their  horse.  It 
may  be  pleasing  to  be  identified  with  the  supernatural, 
but  one's  self-respect  must  need  all  such  compensations 
to  allow  one  to  become  a  peg  for  admiring  women  to  hang 
their  embroidery  on — to  be  largely  dependent  upon  their 
gratuities,  subject  to  some  of  their  control,  to  put  in,  say, 
two  fair  days'  work  in  seven,  and  spend  the  rest  in  fiddle- 
faddle. 

"  There  is  but  one  God.  What  directly  concerns  you, 
my  friends,  is  that  Mohammed  is  his  Prophet — to  interpret 
the  supernatural  for  you."  It  would  be  interesting  to  find 
out  if  there  ever  existed  a  religion,  savage  or  civilized, 
whose  public  proclamation  did  not  contain  a  qualifying 
clause  to  retain  the  power  in  the  priests. 

The  sermon  on  this  occasion  was  on  the  observance 
of  the  Sabbath.  It  contained  much  church  law  and 
theology,  and  in  quotations  from  different  saints  who  had 
lived  at  various  periods  during  the  dark  ages,  and  whose 
sayings  did  not  seem  to  be  chosen  so  much  on  account  of 
their  force  as  for  the  weight  given  by  the  names  of  the 
saints  themselves,  which  were  delivered  ore  rotunda.  But 
it  is  doubtful  whether  the  most  erudite  quotation  from 
obscure  mediaeval  saints  is  capable  of  carrying  much  con- 
viction to  the  hearts  of  a  Canadian  audience,  and  Jack 
and  Charley  had  to  be  kicked  into  consciousness  from  an 
uneasy  slumber. 


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150 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


From  the  saints  the  priest  descended  to  Chicago,  a 
transition  which  awoke  several.  And  he  sought  to  illus- 
trate the  depravity  of  that  city  by  commenting  upon  the 
large  facilities  there  provided  for  Sabbath-breaking.  He 
spoke  of  the  street-cars  he  had  seen  there  running  on  that 
day,  and  of  the  suburban  trains  that  carried  thousands  of 
working-women  and  girls  out  of  the  city.  He  did  not  say 
that  the  cars  were  chiefly  drawn  by  steam-power,  nor  that 
these  poor,  jaded,  hollow-eyed  girls  worked  harder  in  one 
day  than  he  did  in  three  weeks  ;  nor  did  he  speak  of  the 
weak  women's  hard  struggle  for  existence  in  the  life-con- 
suming factories  ;  nor  of  the  freshness  of  the  lake  breezes 
in  the  spots  where  the  trains  dropped  thousands  of  their 
overworked  passengers. 

Margaret  Mackintosh  had  seen  these  dragged,  dust- 
choked,  narrow-chested,  smoke-dried  girls,  with  all  the 
bloom  of  youth  gone  from  them,  trying  to  make  their  drawn 
faces  smile  as  they  go  off  together  in  their  clean,  Sunday 
print  dresses,  too  jaded  for  anything  save  rest  and  fresh 
air.  She  knew  that  any  man  not  devoid  of  the  true  es- 
sence of  Christ  might  almost  weep  in  the  fullness  of  his 
sympathy  with  them.  But  the  young  priest  convicted 
them  of  sacrilege,  and  did  not  say  he  was  thankful  for 
being  privileged  to  witness  such  a  sight,  or  that  Chicago 
existed  to  shame  the  more  priest-ridden  cities  of  Canada. 

When  this  story  was  concluded,  Mrs.  Dusenall,  and 
many  of  her  kind,  and  the  unimpressionable  girls  looked 
acquiescence,  because  the  words  were  backed  by  the 
Church,  but  their  hearts  went  out  to  the  poor  sinners  in 
Chicago.  Only  with  those  who  took  their  mental  bias 
from  the  priest  did  his  words  find  solid  resting-place. 
Geoffrey  sat  with  an  inmovable  face,  impossible  to  read. 
His  subsequent  remark  to  Margaret,  when  she  had  deliv- 
ered her  opinions  about  the  matter,  was,  however,  charac- 
teristic.    He  said  simply,  as  if  deprecating  her  vehemence  : 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


151 


m 

'hi- 1  ■ 


"  The  man  must  live,  you  know,  and  how  is  he  to  live  if 
people  go  out  of  town  on  Sunday."  To  Geoffrey  a  short 
time  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  him  that  the  preacher  ought 
to  have  lived  in  the  days  when  mankind  were  saturated 
with  belief  in  miracle  and  looked  for  explanation  of  events 
by  miracle  without  dreaming  of  other  explanation. 

During  the  next  five  minutes  the  sermon  rather  wan- 
dered from  the  subject,  but  fastened  upon  it  again  in  an 
anecdote  of  an  occurrence  said  to  have  taken  place  at  an 
American  seaport  town,  during  the  preacher's  visit  there. 

Several  young  mechanics,  instead  of  going  to  church  one 
Sunday  morning,  had  engaged  a  yawl,  and  also  the  fisher- 
men who  owned  it,  to  take  them  to  a  village  on  the  coast 
and  back  again.  It  appeared  from  the  account  that  for  a 
day  and  a  night  the  yawl  had  been  blown  away  from  the 
coast,  and  then  that  the  wind  had  changed,  so  as  to  drive 
it  back  again ;  and  the  story  of  the  voyage  naturally  found 
attentive  listeners  among  our  yachting  friends. 

'*  All  through  that  first  terrible  day,  and  all  through 
the  long,  black  night  they  were  tossed  about  among  the 
giant  billows  of  a  most  tempestuous  ocean.  And  what, 
dear  friends,  must  have  been  the  agony  and  remorse  of 
those  misguided  young  men  when  they  thus  realized  the 
results  of  their  deliberate  breaking  of  the  holy  day.  As 
they  clung  to  the  frail  vessel,  which  reeled  to  and  fro  be- 
neath them  like  a  drunken  man,  and  which  now  alone 
remained  to  possibly  save  them  from  a  watery  grave — as 
they  perceived  the  billows  breaking  in  upon  that  devoted 
ship,  insomuch  that  it  was  covered  with  waves,  what  must 
have  been  their  sensations?  And  when  the  wind  sud- 
denly changed  its  direction  and  blew  them  with  terrible 
force  back  again  toward  the  rocky  coast,  we  can  imagine 
how  earnestly  they  made  their  resolutions  never  again  to 
transgress  in  this  way.  Once  more,  after  a  while,  they 
saw  the  land  again,  and  as  they  came  closer  they  could 


Mj^ 


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m           ! 

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3    ;. 

.  -      -   i 

152 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


f>.. 


^li 


'■i:^J 


discern  the  spires  of  those  holy  edifices  which  they  had 
abandoned  for  the  sake  of  forbidden  pleasures  and  in 
which  they  were  doomed  never  to  hear  the  teachings  of 
the  Church  again.  There  lay  the  harbor  before  them,  as 
if  in  mockery  of  all  their  attempts  to  reach  it;  and  while 
raised  on  high  in  the  air,  on  the  summit  of  some  white, 
mountainous  billow,  they  could  obtain  a  Pisgah-like  view 
of  those  homes  they  were  destined  never  again  to  enter." 

Jack  was  broad  awake  now  and  wondering  why,  with 
the  wind  dead  after  them,  the  fishermen  in  charge  of  the 
boat  could  not  make  the  harbor. 

"  Suddenly  there  came  a  great  noise,  which  no  doubt 
sounded  like  a  death  knell  in  the  hearts  of  the  terrified 
and  exhausted  young  men.  It  was  soon  discovered  that 
the  mainsail  of  the  ship  had  been  blown  away  by  the 
fury  of  the  tempest. 

"  Now  what  was  their  unhappy  condition  ?  How 
could  they  any  longer  strive  to  reach  the  longed-for  haven 
when  the  mainsail  of  the  yawl  was  blown  away  ? " 

Jack  shifted  in  his  seat  uncomfortably  at  this  point. 
He  was  saying  to  himself;  "  Why  not  sneak  in  under  a 
jib  ?  Or  even  under  bare  poles  ?  Or,  if  the  harbor  was 
intricate,  why  not  heave  to  under  the  mizzen  and  signal 
for  a  tug  ? "  Half  a  score  of  possibilities  followed  each 
other  through  his  brain,  which  in  sailing  matters  worked 
quickly.  He  always  inclined  from  his  early  training  to 
accept  without  question  all  that  issued  from  the  pulpit ; 
but  this  story  bothered  him.     The  instructor  went  on  : 

"  Clearly  there  was  now  no  hope  for  the  devoted  ves- 
sel. Even  the  anchor  was  gone ;  the  anchor  of  Hope, 
dear  friends,  was  gone.  The  strong  trustworthy  anchor 
(in  which  mariners  place  so  great  confidence  that  it  has 
become  the  type  or  symbol  of  Hope)  was  gone — washed 
overboard  by  the  temptuous  waves." 

Charley  here  received  a  kick  under  the  seat  from  Jack 


' 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


153 


hi  r 


^Iiose  face  was  now  filled  with  a  blank  incredulity,  which 
showed  that  the  influence  of  his  early  training  had  de- 
parted from  him. 

In  one  way  or  another,  the  preacher  succeeded  in 
irritating  some  of  the  Ideal's  crew.  He  went  on  to  say 
that  the  yawl  was  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks,  and 
that  only  one  man — a  fisherman — survived  ;  from  which 
he  drew  the  usual  moral. 

With  three  or  four  exceptions,  our  friends  went  out 
of  church  not  as  good-humored  as  when  they  came  in 
Geoffrey  alone  seemed  to  have  enjoyed  himself.  His 
heartfelt  cynicism  pulled  him  through.  He  said  aloud  to 
Mrs.  Dusenall,  when  they  were  all  together  again,  that  he 
thought  the  preacher's  description  of  the  perils  of  the 
deep  was  very  beautiful.  (Dead  silence  from  Jack  and 
Charley).  Mrs.  Dusenall  concurred  with  him,  and  said  it 
was  wonderful  how  clergymen  acquired  so  much  general 
knowledge. 

Presently  Charley,  thoughtfully  :  "  Say,  Jack,  what 
was  the  matter  with  that  boat,  any  way  ?  " 

"  Blessed  if  I  could  find  out,"  said  Jack. 

"Why!  did  you  not  hear?  Her  mainsail  was  gone," 
said  Geoffrey  gravely,  to  draw  Jack  out. 

"  Well,  who  the  deuce  cares  for  a  mains'l  ? "  answered 
Jack,  rising  testily  to  the  bait.  "  The  man  does  not  know 
what  he  is — well,  of  course,  he  is  a  clergyman,  but  then, 
you  know — my  stars !  not  make  a  port  in  broad  daylight 
with  the  wind  dead  aft !  Perfectly  impossible  to  miss  it ! 
And,  then  the  anchor — a  fisherman's  anchor! — washed 
overboard  ! " 

Geoffrey  persisted,  more  gravely,  in  a  reproachful 
tone  ;  "  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Jack,  that  you  doubt  that 
what  a  clergyman  says  is  true  ?  " 

The  Misses  Dusenall  also  looked  at  him  very  seri- 
ously. 


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":  ■■:ii  ^^^^^ 

llbkMi^il  a^.' 

154 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


Jack  was  a  candid  young  man,  and  had  his  religious 
views  fixed,  as  it  were,  hereditarily.  He  looked  at  his 
boots,  as  if  he  would  like  to  evade  the  question ;  but,  see- 
ing no  escape,  he  came  out  with  his  answer  like  parting 
with  his  teeth. 

"  When  the  parson,"  he  said  with  stolid  determination, 
"  goes  in  for  mediaeval  saints,  I  don't  interfere.  He  can 
forge  ahead  and  I  won't  try  to  split  his  wind.  But  when 
he  talks  sailing  he  must  talk  sense.  No,  sir  !  I  do  nof 
believe  that  story — and  no  Angel  Gabriel  would  make 


me. 


ft 


There  was  a  force  behind  his  tones  of  conviction 
which  amused  some  of  his  hearers. 

"  Jack  Cresswell  !  You  surprise  me,"  said  Geoffrey 
loftily. 

After  lunch  the  ladies  went  up  into  the  city  to  visit 
some  friends,  and  the  men  were  lying  about  under  the 
awning,  chatting,  smoking,  and  sipping  claret. 

"  Well,  there  was  one  thing  about  that  boat  that 
caused  the  entire  disturbance,"  said  Charley,  sagaciously. 
"  I've  thought  the  whole  thing  out ;  and  I  put  down  the 
trouble  to  the  usual  cause — and  that  is — whisky.  When 
the  fishermen  found  there  was  liquor  on  board  they 
*  steered  for  the  open  sea,'  and  when  they  were  all  stark, 
staring,  blind  drunk  they  went  ashore." 

"I  fancy  you  have  solved  the  difficulty,"  said  Mr. 
Lemons.  "  The  preacher  did  not,  somehow,  seem  to  get 
hold  of  me.  My  notion  is  that  he  should  come  down  to 
your  level  and  help  you  up — like  those  Arab  chaps  that 
lug  and  butt  you  up  the  Pyramids — not  stand  at  the  top 
and  order  you  to  climb." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  A  speaker  must  in  some 
way  make  his  listeners  feel  at  home  with  him,  just  as  a 
novel,  to  sell  well,  must  contain  some  one  touch  of  nature 
that  makes  the  whole  world  kin.     The  sympathies  must  be 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


155 


m\^ 


excited.  In  books  accepted  by  gentle  folk  the  "one 
touch  "  of  attractive  and  primitive  nature  is  refined,  and 
in  this  shape  it  is  called  poetry — in  this  shape  it  creates 
vague  and  pleasant  wonderings,  especially  in  the  minds  of 
those  whose  fancies  are  capable  of  no  higher  intellectual 
flight.  When  we  see  that  people  so  universally  seek  pro- 
ductions in  which  nature  is  only  more  or  less  disguised,  we 
seem  to  understand  man  better." 

"  What  are  you  trying  to  get  at  now  ?  "  asked  Jack, 
with  a  smiling  show  of  impatience. 

"  Why,"  said  Hampstead,  *'  take  the  work  of  the  spright- 
liest  modern  novel  writers — say,  for  instance,  Besant  and 
Rice.  Deduct  the  fun  from  their  books  and  the  shadowy 
plot,  and  what  remains  ?  A  girl — a  fresh,  young,  innocent 
girl — who,  with  her  beautiful  face  and  figure,  charms  the 
heart.  She  does  not  do  much,  and  (with  William  Black) 
she  says  even  less ;  but  the  people  in  the  book  are  all  in  love 
with  her,  and  the  reader  becomes,  in  a  second-hand  and 
imaginative  way,  in  love  with  her  also.  She  is  quiet,  lady- 
like, and  delicious  ;  her  surroundings  assist  in  creating  an 
interest  in  her  ;  but  in  the  dawn  and  development  of  love 
within  her  lies  the  chief  interest  of  most  readers.  The 
mind  concentrates  itself  without  effort  when  lured  by  any 
of  our  earlier  instincts.  What  we  want  is  a  definition  as 
to  what  degree  of  careful  mental  exertion  is  worthy  of  be- 
ing dignified  by  the  name  of  "  thought,"  as  distinguished 
from  that  sequence  of  ideas,  without  exertion,  which  is 
sufficient  in  all  animals  for  daily  routine  and  the  carrying 
out  of  instinct." 

"  There  are  some  of  your  ideas,  Hampstead,  which  do 
not  seem  to  promise  improvement  to  anybody,"  said  Jack. 

"  And,  for  you,  the  worst  thing  about  them  is  that  they 
have  a  semblance  of  truth,"  replied  Hampstead. 

"  Sometimes — yes,"  admitted  Jack.  "  But  I  would  not 
excuse  you  because  they  happened  to  be  true.     The  only 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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way  I  excuse  you  is  because,  after  your  scientific  mud- 
groveling,  you  sonjetimes  point  higher  than  others.  Are 
we  to  understand,  then,  that  you  object  to  novel  reading 
on  moral  grounds?" 

"  Don't  be  absurd.  A  novel  may  be  all  that  it  should 
be.  I  am  stating  what  I  take  to  be  facts,  and  I  think  it  in- 
teresting to  consider  why  we  enjoy  what  ladies  call  *a 
good  love-story.*  You  will  notice  that  people  who  adopt 
an  over-ascetic  and  unnatural  life  and  do  not  seek  nature, 
give  up  reading  '  good  love-stories.'  Perhaps  they  vaguely 
realize  that  the  difference  in  the  interest  created  by  Black's 
insipid  Yolande  and  Byron's  Don  Juan  is  merely  one  of 
degree." 

"  Now,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  say  candidly  what 
gain  you  or  any  one  else  ever  received  from  thinking  in 
such  channels  as  these  ?  "  inquired  Jack,  with  impatience. 

*' Certainly.  It  keeps  me  from  transcendentalism — 
from  being  led  off  into  vanity — thoughts  about  my  immor- 
tality—" 

*'  Surely,"  interrupted  Jack,  "  the  aspirations  of  one's 
soul  are  sufficient  to  convince  us  that  we  will  live  again." 

. "  Jack,  a  man's  soul  is  simply  his  power  of  imagining 
and  desiring  what  he  hasn't  got.  Once  a  day,  more  or 
less,  his  soul  imagines  immortality.  The  rest  of  the  time 
it  imagines  his  sweetheart.  If  a  poet,  his  soul  combines 
the  two.  Or  else  it  is  the  mighty  dollar,  or  hunting,  or 
something  else.  Shall  all  his  aspirations  toward  nature 
go  for  nothing  ?  His  soul  will  conjure  up  his  sweetheart 
nine  thousand  times  for  one  thought  of  his  future  state. 
Because  he  has  acquired  neither.  If  he  had  acquired 
either,  he  would  soon  be  quite  as  certain  that  there  was 
something  still  better  in  store  for  him.  With  our  minds  as 
active  and  refined  as  they  are,  it  would  be  quite  impossible 
for  men  to  do  otherwise  than  have  their  imaginings  about 
souls  and  immortality.     These  make  no  proof ;  the  savage 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


157 


has  none  of  them  ;  and  if  they  were  proof,  whither  do 
man's  aspirations  chiefly  point  ?    To  earth  or  to  heaven  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  your  answer,"  said  Jack,  '*  is  sufficient 
for  yourself.  You  study  science,  then,  to  persuade  your- 
self that  when  you  die  you  will  remain  teetotally  dead  ? " 

"  Rather  to  make  myself  content  with  a  truth  which  is 
different  from  and  not  so  pleasant  as  that  which  we  are 
taught  in  early  life." 

"  For  goodness'  sake,"  cried  Mr.  Lemons,  yawning, 
"pass  the  claret." 


im 


,J3 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

Visam  Britannos  hospitibus  feros. 

Horace,  Lib.  3,  Carm.  4. 

Mrs.  Dusenall  liked  the  visit  to  Kingston.  She  was 
proud  of  the  appearance  her  guests  and  family  made  at 
the  church,  and  she  thought  of  going  home  and  writing 
a  book  as  prodigal  of  pretty  woodcuts  and  fascinating 
price-lists  as  those  published  by  other  gilded  ladies.  True, 
she  had  with  her  no  young  children  wherewith  to  awake 
interest  in  foreign  places  by  detailing  what  occurred  in  the 
ship's  nursery ;  and  thus  she  might  have  been  driven  to 
say  something  about  the  foreign  places  themselves,  which, 
in  a  book  of  travels,  are  perhaps  of  secondary  importance 
when  a  whole  gilded  family  may  be  studied  in  their  inter- 
esting retirement. 

They  kept  a  log  on  the  Ideal,  and  each  one  had  to 
take  his  or  her  turn  at  keeping  the  account  of  the  cruise 
posted  up  to  date. 

Some  events  on  board  or  near  the  Ideal  did  not  come 
under  Mrs.  Dusen all's  notice  and  did  not  appear  in  the 
log-book.  Nobody  flirted  with  Mrs.  Dusenall  to  make 
her  experience  exciting,  and  her  book,  if  written,  would 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


have  been  one  long  panorama  of  landscape  interlarded 
with  the  mildest  of  items.  But  compress  your  world  even 
to  the  size  of  a  yacht,  and  there  will  be  still  more  going 
on,  in  the  same  eternal  way,  than  any  one  person  can 
observe,  especially  if  that  person  happens  to  be  a  chaperon. 

The  first  evening  among  the  islands  was  spent  in 
different  ways.  Some  paddled  about  to  explore  or  bathe. 
Flirtation  of  a  mild  type  was  prevalent — interesting  pos- 
sibly to  the  parties  concerned,  and,  as  usual,  to  them- 
selves only.  Toward  dusk  the  gig  was  manned  by  the 
crew  for  the  transportation  of  Mrs.  Dusenall  and  part 
of  her  suite  across  the  river  through  the  islands  to  the 
hotels  at  Alexandria  Bay  on  the  American  shore.  The 
hotel  guests  on  the  balconies  and  verandas  were  continu- 
ing to  enjo/  or  endure  that  eternal  siesta  which  at  these 
places  seems  to  be  quite  unbroken  save  at  meal  times, 
and  the  arrival  of  a  number  of  very  presentable  people  in 
a  handsome  gig,  rowed  in  the  man-of-war  style  by  uni- 
formed sailors  and  steered  by  a  person  with  a  gold-lace 
badge  on  his  cap,  created  a  ripple  of  interest.  Among 
those  on  the  verandas  engaged,  perhaps  overtaxed,  in  the 
digestion  of  their  dinners,  not  a  few  were  slightly  interested 
by  what  they  saw.  In  a  group  of  a  dozen  or  more  a  gen- 
tleman behind  a  solitait  j  shirt-stud,  worth  a  good  year's 
salary  for  a  Yic*  Bank  clerk  seemed  to  be  speaking 
the  thoiK     ?  y,  though  his  words  came  out 

chiefly       ^  ->quy.     He  seemed  to  be  taking  a 

sort  of  airing  .Qhory  of  the  gig  and  its  occupants  as 
it  approa  :hed  f\e  landing  wharf: 

**  Small  sailor  boy — standing  in  the  bow — with  a  spear 
in  his  hand." 

It  was  a  boat-hook  in  t  ooy's  hand,  but  it  might 
have  been  a  trident. 

"  He's  real  cunnin' — that  ;  jy — in  his  masquerade  suit. 
Four  sailors — also   in   masquerade  costume.      And  they 


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GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


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can  make  her  hump  up  the  river,  sure's-yer-born.  Now  I 
wonder  who  those  fellows  are — in  buttons — with  gold 
badges  on  their  hats.  Wonder  what  those  badges  might 
imply !  Part  of  the  masquerade,  I  guess.  But  stylish — 
very." 

Then,  turning  to  a  friend,  he  said  : 

"  Cha'ley,  those  people  are  yachting  round  here." 

At  this  discovery  the  exhausted-looking  refugee  from 
overwork  in  some  city  addressed  as  "  Cha'ley,"  whose  face 
was  lit  up  solely  by  a  cigar,  answered  slowly  but  de- 
cisively : 

**  Looks  like  it — very." 

Then  followed  a  quick  mental  calculation  in  the  head 
of  the  gentleman  behind  the  solitaire,  and,  as  the  boat 
came  alongside  the  landing,  the  oars  being  handled  with 
trained  accuracy,  he  said  : 

"  I  wonder  how  many  of  those  paid  men  they  have  on 
bo^rd.  I  like  it.  I  like  the  whole  thing.  I  shall  do  it 
myself  next  summer.  And  right  up  to  the  handle.  Cha'- 
ley, bet  you  half  a  dollar  that  those  are  first-class  gentle- 
men and  ladies  down  there,  and  we  ought  to  go  down  and 
receive  them." 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  the  other  in  grave,  staccato 
tones,  which  seemed  to  deny  the  exhaustion  of  his  appear- 
ance by  indicating  some  internal  strength.  "James,"  he 
added  in  solemn  self-reproach,  "we  should  have  been 
down — on  the  landing — to  assist  the  ladies  from  their 
canoe." 

As  they  left  the  veranda  several  ladies  called  after 
them : 

"  Mr.  Cowper,  we  would  be  pleased  to  have  you  bring 
the  ladies  up." 

Mr.  Cowper  bowed  with  gravity,  but  did  not  say  any- 
thing, as  he  was  preparing  within  him  his  form  of  self- 
introduction. 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Cc  wper  and  Mr.  Withers  met 
our  party  as  they  slowly  meandered  up  the  ascent  toward 
the  hotel.  Mr.  Cowper,  hat  in  hand,  gave  them  collect- 
ively a  bow,  which,  if  somewhat  foreign  in  its  nature,  was 
not  without  dignity,  and  he  addressed  them  with  unmistak- 
able hospitality,  while  Mr.  Withers,  by  a  flank  movement, 
attacked  the  left  wing  of  the  party,  where  he  conducted  a 
little  reception  of  his  own. 

Mr.  Cowper  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men?" 

Mrs.  DuL'enall  bowed  and  smiled,  and  the  others,  won- 
dering what  was  coming,  bowed  also  as  they  caught  Mr. 
Cowper's  encofnpassing  eye.  "  We  regret,"  he  said,  look- 
ing toward  Geoffrey,  to  whom  he  was  more  especially  at- 
tracted on  account  of  his  cap-badge  and  greater  stature. 
"  We  regret,  captain,  that  we  did  not  notice  your  arrival 
in  time  to  be  on  the  landing  to  assist  the  ladies  from  your 
canoe." 

Geoffrey's  smile  only  indicated  his  gratification  and  had 
no  reference  to  Mr.  Cowper's  new  name  for  the  yacht's 

gig- 

"We  are  only  guests  in  the  hotel  ourselves,  but  if  we 

had  known  of  your  coming  some  of  us  certainly  would 
have  been  down  to  receive  you  in  the  proper  manner." 

What  "  proper  manner  "  of  reception  Mr  Cowper  had 
in  his  head  it  is  difficult  to  say.  His  words  showed  Mrs. 
Dusenall,  however,  that  he  was  not  the  custom-house 
officer  or  the  hotel-keeper,  which  relieved  her  of  some 
anxiety  lest  she  should  make  a  mistake.  At  a  slight  pause 
in  his  flow  of  language  she  thanked  him  in  her  most  re- 
assuring accents,  and  continued  in  those  juave  tones  and 
with  that  perfect  self-possession,  with  which  the  English 
duchess,  her  head  a  little  on  one  side  and  chin  upraised, 
has  been  supposed  carelessly  to  assert  her  person,  crown, 
and  dignity. 


TW7 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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I  assure  you,"  she  said,  "  that  we  are  only  knocking 
about,  as  it  were,  quite  informally,  from  place  to  place  in 
the  yacht." 

"  Quite  informally,"  echoed  Geoffrey,  who  was  enjoy- 
ing Mrs.  Dusenall. 

She  added :  "  So,  of  course,  we  could  not  think  of 
allowing  you  to  give  yourselves  any  trouble  on  our  ac- 
count." 

In  what  pageantry  Mrs.  Dusenall  proceeded  when  not 
traveling  quite  informally  Mr.  Cowper  did  not  give  him- 
self the  trouble  to  consider.  The  thought  came  to  him 
that  he  might  be  entertaining  an  English  duchess  unawares, 
but  the  succeeding  consciousness  that  he  could  probably 
buy  up  this  duchess  "  and  her  whole  masquerade  "  forti- 
fied him  as  with  triple  brass. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  with  that  distinctness  and  intensity 
with  which  Americans  convey  the  impression  that  they 
mean  what  they  say,  "  if  we  have  neglected  you  and  your 
friends  at  first,  we  will  be  pleased  if  you  will  allow  us  now 
to  try  to  make  your  visit  attractive." 

Mrs.  Dusenall  thought  this  was  assuming  a  heavy  re- 
sponsibility. 

"  If  you  will  come  up  on  the  pe-az-a,  there  are  a  num- 
ber of  real  nice  ladies  who  would  be  most  pleased  to  meet 
you." 

Several  of  the  party  began  to  think  that  the  cares  of 
"  knocking  about  quite  informally  "  were  about  to  com- 
mence. But  as  there  was  no  escape,  and  all  smiled  pleas- 
antly, and  Mr.  Cowper  conversed  as  he  and  Mr.  Withers 
led  thc^n  up  to  the  "  pe-az-a."  He  was  gratified  at  the 
way  they  responded  to  his  endeavors  ;  and  perhaps  he 
was  not  without  a  latent  wish  to  show  his  hotel  friends 
how  perfectly  at  home  he  was  in  "  first-class  British  so- 
ciety." 

"  There  is  always  something  going  on  here,"  he  said  ; 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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**  and  if  there  is  nothing  on  just  now  we  will  get  up  some- 
thing real  pleasant — or  my  name's  not  Cowper." 

This  hint  as  to  his  identi""  was  not  thrown  away,  and 
as  it  seemed  more  than  likely  that  they  were  about  to  be 
entertained  immediately  by  this  gentleman  behind  the  soli- 
taire headlight,  it  occurred  to  Geoffrey  that  it  would  be  as 
well  for  the  party  to  know  what  his  name  was. 

**  Mr.  Cowper,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Du- 
senall." 

This  quickness  on  Geoffrey's  part  relieved  Mr.  Cowper 
from  any  difficulty  in  mentioning  his  own  name.  Mrs. 
Dusenall  then  introduced  him  in  a  general  way  to  the  re- 
mainder of  the  party.  To  Miss  Dusenall  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  do  more  than  bow,  as  she  was  chilling  in  her 
demeanor.  She  had  received,  as  has  been  hinted,  that 
final  distracting  finishing  polish  which  an  English  school 
is  expected  to  give^  and  she  sought  to  be  so  entirely  Eng- 
lish as  not  to  know  what  cosmopolitan  courtesy  was. 

Margaret's  face,  however,  gave  Mr.  Cowper  encour- 
agement and  pleasure,  and,  as  he  shook  hands  warmly 
with  her,  something  in  her  appearance  gave  a  new  spur 
to  his  hospitable  intentions.  The  energy  of  a  new  nation 
seemed  bottled  up  within  him,  as  he  said  to  Margaret : 

"  If  I  can't  get  up  something  here  to  make  you  enjoy 
yourself,  why — why  don't  believe  in  me  any  more." 

His  evident  but  respectful  admiration  could  only  elicit 
a  laugh  and  a  blush.  It  was  impossible  to  resist  Mr. 
Cowper  in  his  energetic  intention  to  be  host,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  dazzling  headlight,  the  national  generosity  and  for- 
getfulness  of  self  were  so  apparent  in  him  that  Margaret 
*'  took  to  him  "  in  a  way  that  mystified  the  other  girls,  who 
regarded  the  headlight  only  as  a  warning  beacon  placed 
there  by  Providence  to  preserve  young  ladies  with  an 
English  boarding-school  finish  from  undesirable  associa- 
tions. 


I' I 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


163 


Mr.  Cowper  was  what  is  called  "  self-made  " — a  word 
that  in  the  States  conveys  with  it  no  implied  slur — for  the 
simple  reason  that  there  is  not  the  same  necessity  for  it  as 
in  England.  Speaking  generally,  an  American  has  a 
generous  consideration  for  women  and  a  largeness  of 
character,  or  rather  an  absence  of  smallness,  not  yet  suffi 
ciently  recognized  as  national  characteristics.  He  is  gen- 
erally the  same  man  after  "  making  his  pile  "  as  before — 
not  always  fully  acquainted,  perhaps,  with  social  veneer, 
but  kind,  keen,  and  generous  to  a  fault.  It  would  be  an 
insult  to  such  a  one  to  compare  him  with  the  "  self-made  " 
Englishman,  whose  rude  pretension  of  superiority  to  those 
poorer  than  himself,  truckling  servility  to  rank  and  posi- 
tion, and  ignorance  of  everything  outside  his  own  business 
render  him  very  unlovely. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Cowper,  when  he  had  been  intro- 
duced to  them  all.  "  Now,"  he  said,  "  we're  all  solid.  We 
will  just  step  up-stairs,  if  you  please."  He  looked  at  them 
all  pleasantly  as  he  offered  his  arm  to  assist  Mrs.  Dusen- 
all's  ascent.  When  they  arrived  on  the  veranda  above, 
his  idea  was  that,  in  order  to  bring  about  the  perfect  con- 
cord he  desired  to  see,  individual  introductions  were  neces- 
sary. To  Mrs.  Dusenall  he  introduced  a  large  number  of 
lean  girls  and  stout  women,  ninety  per  cent  of  whom  said 
"  pleased  to  meet  you,"  and  Mrs.  Dusenall,  appearing, 
with  surprising  activity  of  countenance,  to  be  freshly  grati- 
fied at  each  introduction,  quite  won  their  hearts. 

But  when  Mr.  Cowper  commenced  to  introduce  them 
all  over  again  to  Margaret,  that  young  person,  not  being 
afraid  of  women,  rebelled,  and,  touching  his  arm  to  stay 
his  impetuous  career,  said:  "  Oh,  no,  it  will  take  too  long. 
Let  me  do  it.  Then  she  turned  to  the  company.  "  As 
Mr.  Cowper  says,  my  name  is  Mackintosh,"  and  she  ducked 
them  a  sort  of  old-fashioned  courtesy.  The  company 
bowed — some  smiling  and  some  solemn  at  her  audacity. 


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164 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"1 


"  And  very  much  at  your  service,"  she  added,  as  she 
dipped  again  to  the  solemn  ones — capturing  them  also. 
Then  she  turned  to  the  others.  "  And  this  is  Miss  Dusen- 
all,"  and  so-and-so,  and  so-and-so,  until  they  were  all 
made  known. 

"  And  this  is  Morry,"  she  said  lastly,  taking  the  little 
man  by  the  coat-sleeve.     "Make  your  bow,  Morry." 

Rankin  remained  gazing  on  the  ground  until  she  shook 
him  by  the  sleeve.  Then  he  took  a  swift,  scared  glance 
at  the  assembly,  and  said,  "  I'm  shy,"  and  hid  his  head 
behind  tall  Margaret's  shoulder.  This  absurdity  amused 
the  American  girls,  and  five  or  six  of  them,  forgetting 
their  stiffness,  crowded  around  to  encourage  him.  A 
beaming  matron  came  up  to  Margaret  and  took  her  kindly 
by  the  elbows. 

"  I  must  kiss  you,  my  dear.  You  did  that  so  charm- 
ingly." 

"  Indeed,  it's  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so,"  replied  Mar- 
garet, as  she  received  an  affectionate  salute.  "  Long  ir.- 
troductions  are  so  tiresome,  are  they  not  ? " 

*'  They  do  take  time,  my  dear,"  said  the  motherly 
person,  as  they  sat  down  together. 

"  Yes,  time  and  introductions  should  be  taken  by  the 
forelock,"  smiled  Margaret. 

"Just  what  you  did,  my  dear.  I  do  wish  I  had  a 
daughter  like  you.  Oh  my  !  "  And  the  little  woman's  face 
grew  long  for  a  moment  at  some  sad  recollection.  An 
interesting  episode  of  family  sorrow  would  have  been 
confided  to  Margaret  if  they  had  not  been  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  four  tall  young  men,  in  company  with  Mr. 
Withers.  The  grave,  worn-out  face  of  Mr.  Withers  had 
just  a  flicker  in  it  as  his  strong  ratchet-spring  voice  ad- 
dressed itself  to  our  party  : 

"  Mrs.  Dusenall  and  friends,  permit  me  to  introduce 
to  you  the  *  Little  Frauds.'  " 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


.  .^,5j 


The  four  tall  young  men  bowed  with  the  usual  gravity, 
and  then  mixed  with  the  company.  They  wore  untanned 
leather  and  canvas  shoes,  dark-blue  stockings,  light-colored 
knickerbocker  trousers,  and  leather  belts.  Navy-blue  flan- 
nel shirts,  with  white  silk  anchors  on  the  broad  collars, 
completed  their  costume,  with  the  exception  of  black  neck- 
ties and  stiff  white  linen  caps  with  horizontal  leather  peaks. 
Taken  as  a  whole,  their  costume  was  such  a  happy  com- 
bination of  a  baseball  player's  and  a  Pullman-car  con- 
ductor's that  the  brain  refused  to  believe  in  the  maritime 
occupation  suggested  by  the  white  anchors. 

Mr.  Withers  explained  who  they  were. 

"The  Little  Frauds,"  he  said,  "are  a  party  of  young 
men  who  live  together  in  a  kind  of  small  shanty  on  one  of 
the  neighboring  islands.  Although  the  locality  is  pictur- 
esque, they  do  not  live  here  during  the  winter,  but  only 
migrate  to  these  parts  when — well,  when  I  suppose  no 
other  place  will  have  them.  They  come  here  every  year 
to  enjoy  the  solitude  of  a  hermit-life.  Here  they  with- 
draw themselves  from  their  fellow-man,  and  more  espe- 
cially their  fellow-woman." 

The  gentlemen  referred  to  were  taking  no  manner  of 
notice  of  Mr.  Withers,  and  in  their  chatter  with  the  girls 
were  not  living  up  to  their  character. 

"  The  reason  why  they  are  called  *  Little  Frauds  *  has 
now  almost  ceased  to  be  handed  down  by  the  voice  of 
tradition,"  continued  Mr.  Withers.  "  It  is  not  because 
they  are  intrinsically  more  deceptive  than  other  men.  No 
man  who  had  any  deception  in  his  nature  would  go  round 
with  a  leg  like  this  without  resorting  to  artifice  to  improve 
its  shape." 

Mr.  Withers  here  picked  up  a  blue-covered  pipestem 
which  served  one  of  the  Frauds  with  the  means  of  loco- 
motion. 

"  That,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Withers,  slow- 


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1 66 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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ly,  in  the  tone  of  a  lecturer,  and  poising  the  limb  in  his 
hand,  "  is  essentially  the  leg  of  a  hermit.  If  for  no  other 
reason  than  to  hide  that  leg  from  the  public,  its  owner, 
ladies,  should  become  a  hermit." 

The  leg  here  became  instinct  with  life,  and  Mr.  With- 
ers suddenly  stepped  back  and  gasped  for  breath.  Then 
he  explained  further : 

"  Seeing  that  the  origin  of  the  name  is  now  almost  lost 
in  obscurity,  the  Little  Frauds  themselves  have  lately  taken 
advantage  of  this  fact,  ladies,  to  palm  off  upon  the  public 
a  spurious  version  of  the  story.  They  say,  in  fact,  that 
because  they  systematically  withdrew  themselves  into  a 
life  of  celibacy  and  retirement,  and  being,  as  they  claim, 
very  desirable  as  husbands,  this  name  was  given  to  them 
as  being  frauds  upon  the  matrimonial  market." 

Somebody  here  called  out :  "  Oh,  dry  up.  Withers  !  " 

Mr.  Withers  took  a  glass  of  champagne  from  one  of  the 
waiters  passing  with  a  tray  and  did  quite  the  reverse.  He 
took  two  gulps,  threw  the  rest  over  the  railing,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  One  glance,  ladies,  at  these  people,  who  are  really 
outcasts  from  society,  will  satisfy  you  that  their  explana- 
tion of  the  term  is  as  palpably  manufactured  as  the  manu- 
scripts of  Mr.  Shapira — " 

"  Mister  who  ?  "  inquired  a  profane  voice. 

"  Unaccustomed  as  they  are  to  the  usages  of  polite  so- 
ciety, ladies,  you  will  excuse  any  utterances  on  their  part 
that  might  seem  intended  to  interrupt  my  discourse.  The 
real  reason  of  this  ridiculous  name  is  as  follows — " 

Here,  a  remarkably  good-looking  Fraud  stood  up  be- 
fore Mr.  Withers  and  obliterated  him.  He  spoke  in  a 
voice  something  like  a  corn-craik  : 

"  We  commissioned  Mr.  Withers  to  speak  to  you,  Mrs. 
Dusenall,  and  to  your  party,  on  a  topic  of  great  interest  to 
ourselves,  but  as  the  night  is  likely  to  pass  before  Mr. 


m 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


167 


Withers  gets  to  the  point,  we  will  have  to  dispense  with  his 
services. " 

Mr.  Withers  had  already  retired  behind  his  cigar  again, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  acquitted  himself  pretty 
well. 

The  Frauds  then  begged  leave  to  invite  by  word  of 
mouth  all  our  party  to  a  dance  next  evening  on  their  island. 

Mrs.  Dusenall  accepted  for  all,  as  she  rose  to  go,  sug- 
gesting, at  the  same  time,  that  perhaps  some  of  her  new 
friends,  if  they  did  not  think  it  too  late,  would  accompany 
them  across  the  water  in  the  moonlight  to  examine  their 
yacht. 

After  some  conversation,  a  number  went  with  Mrs. 
Dusenall  in  the  gig,  while  Margaret  and  the  rest  of  our 
party  were  ferried  over  by  Frauds  and  others  in  their  long 
and  comfortable  row-boats. 

Some  more  champagne  was  broached  on  the  yacht, 
but  Mr.  Withers  said  he  remembered  once,  early  in  life, 
drinking  some  of  the  old  rye  whisky  of  Canada,  and 
that  since  then  he  had  always  sought  for  annexation  with 
that  delightful  country. 

To  the  surprise  of  Mrs.  Dusenall,  both  he  and  all  the 
"  Melican  men  "  took  rye  whisky,  and  ignored  her  cham- 
pagne. 

The  dismay  of  Mr.  Cowper  on-  ht:.ring  that  the  yacht 
would  depart  on  the  morning  after  the  Frauds'  dance  was 
unfeigned.     He  said  it  "  broke  him  all  up." 

"  Just  when  we  were  getting  everything  down  solid  for 
a  little  time  together,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Dusenall  explained  that  the  yacht  was  to  take 
part  in  a  race  at  Toronto  in  a  few  days,  and  must  be  on 
hand  to  defend  her  previously  won  laurels. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Dusenall,"  said  Mr.  Cowper  thoughtfully, 
"I  have  myself,  over  there  in  the  bay,  a  small  smoke- 
grinder  that  — " 


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1 68 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


"  A — what  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Dusenall. 

"  A  steamboat,  madame — a  small  steam-yacht.  Noth- 
ing like  this,  of  course."  He  waved  his  hand  airily  as  if 
he  considered  himself  in  a  floating  palace.  "  But  very 
comfortable,  I  do  assure  you.  Now,  if  you  are  going  away 
so  soon,  the  only  thing  I  can  do  is  to  get  you  all  to  visit 
the  different  islands  round  here  in  my  steam-barge.  I  call 
her  the  old  roadster,  madame,  because  she  can't  do  her 
mile  in  better  than  three  minutes." 

As  this  represented  a  speed  of  twenty  miles  an  hour, 
Mrs.  Dusenall  said  it  was  fast  enough  for  her.  If  he  could 
have  got  a  steamboat  fast  enough  to  beat  the  best  trotting 
record  Mr.  Cowper  would  have  been  content. 

It  was  settled  that  at  eleven  o'clock  next  day  the 
steamer  should  call  and  take  the  whole  party  off  to  visit 
the  islands ;  and  he  suggested  that,  as  there  would  be  **  a 
sandwich  or  something"  on  the  boat,  Mrs.  Dusenall  need 
not  think  about  a  return  to  the  Ideal  for  luncheon. 

He  then  gravely  addressed  himself  to  the  four  Frauds 
and  to  Mr.  Withers  : 

"  Gentlemen,  before  we  leave  this  elegant  vessel,  I  wish 
to  remind  you  that  no  real  old  Canadian  rye  whisky  will 
pass  our  lips  again  until  such  a  chance  as  this  once  more 
presents  itself.  Gentlemen,  as  this  is  the  last  drink  we 
will  have  to-night,  we  will,  with  Mrs.  Dusenall's  permis- 
sion, make  ready  our  glasses,  and  we  will  dedicate  and 
consecrate  this  toast  to  the  success  of  the  Ideal  and  her 
delightful  crew.  Mrs.  Dusenall — ladies  and  gentlemen  of 
the  Ideal — this  toast  is  not  only  to  celebrate  our  new  ac- 
quaintance, which  we  hope  may  have  in  the  future  more 
chances  to  ripen  into  intimacy  (and  whi'-h  on  our  part 
will  never  be  forgotten),  but  we  drink  it  also  for  another 
reason — for  another  less  worthy  reason — and  I  can  not 
disguise  from  you  the  fact  that,  to  speak  plainly,  we  like 
the  liquor,     Madame,  the  gentlemen  of  the  Ideal  have 


M 


GEOFFREY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


169 


consented  to  come  back  with  me  now,  to  smoke  just  one 
cigar  on  the  hotel  before  we  all  retire  for  the  night.  Citi- 
zens of  the  United  States,  Frauds,  and  others,  as  this  is 
the  last  drink  we  are  to  have  to-night,  we  will  drink  the 
toast  in  silence." 

The  gravity  of  the  Americans  is  a  huge  national  sham, 
throwing  into  relief  their  humor  and  sunshiny  good-will, 
as  in  a  picture  a  somber  gray  background  throws  up  the 
high  lights. 

In  half  an  hour  more  all  the  men  were  back  at  the 
hotel  with  Mr.  Cowper ;  but,  instead  of  pursuing  the  tran- 
quil occupation  of  smoking  a  cigar,  as  he  proposed,  they 
were  led  in  and  confronted  with  a  banquet  in  which  the 
extensive  resources  of  the  hotel  had  been  taxed  to  the 
utmost. 

Mr.  Cowper  called  it  the  "  little  something  to  eat,"  as 
he  pressed  them  to  come  from  the  verandas  into  the  hotel. 
But  really  it  was  a  magnificent  affair,  and,  as  Mr.  Lemons, 
who  was  eloquent  on  the  subject,  said,  it  was  calculated  to 
appeal  to  a  man's  most  delicate  sensibilities. 

We  will  not  follow  them  any  further  on  this  evening. 
Mr.  Cowper's  idea  was  to  all  have  a  good  time  together — 
banish  stiffness,  promote  intimacy,  and  to  drive  to  the 
winds  all  cares.  He  certainly  succeeded,  for  at  twelve 
o'clock  there  was  not  a  "  Mister  "  in  the  room  for  any- 
body. At  one  o'clock  it  was  "  Jack,  old  man,"  and  "  Cow- 
per, old  chappie,"  all  round.  At  two  o'clock  the  friend- 
ship on  all  sides  was  not  only  hermetically  sealed,  but 
it  promised  to  be  eternal,  and  after  that,  it  was  thought  the 
night  was  a  little  dark  for  Charley  Dusenall  to  return 
with  the  others  to  the  yacht,  so  he  remained  at  the  hotel 
till  morning. 


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«!■ 


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r'«  _  >  ir,8i,  I  :iaJl  111 

- '  "•i.iir 


^4l 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Ferdinand  :  .  .  .  Full  many  a  lady 

I  have  eyed  with  best  regard  ;  and  many  a  time 

The  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  into  bondage 

Brought  my  too  diligent  ear ;  for  several  virtues 

Have  I  liked  several  women  ;  never  any 

With  so  full  a  soul  but  3ome  defect  in  her 

Did  quarrel  with  the  noblest  grace  she  owed, 

And  put  it  to  the  foil ;  but  you,  O  you 

So  perfect  and  so  peerless,  are  created 

Of  every  creature's  best. 

TAe  Tempest. 

The  "  old  roadster  "  had  a  busy  time  of  it  the  next 
morning  preparing  for  the  visit  to  the  islands.  She  was 
steaming  up  and  down  the  river  for  a  long  while  before 
our  friends  knew  it  was  time  to  get  up.  At  eleven  o'clock 
she  took  on  board  the  Canadians,  and  away  they  went — 
not  at  "better"  than  twenty  miles  an  hour,  but  pretty 
fast.  Mr.  Cowper's  hint  that  the  Ideal  was  magnificent  in 
its  fittings  had  pleased  the  Dusenalls.  They  thought  he 
had  been  somewhat  impressed  by  a  swinging  chandelier 
over  the  cabin  table.  Mr.  Cowper  had  examined  this, 
found  it  did  not  contain  the  last  improvements,  said  it  was 
splendid,  and  the  Dusenalls  were  pleased.  But  their  pleas- 
ure was  damped  when  they  were  led  into  the  main  cabin 
of  the  "old  roadster."  The  crimson  silk-plush  cushions 
covering  the  divan  around  the  apartment,  into  which 
they  sank  somewhat  heavily,  did  not  at  first  afford  them 
complete  repose.  The  window  curtains  and  portilres 
throughout  the  vessel  were  all  of  thick  corded  silk  or  silk 
plush.  The  walls  and  ceilings  in  the  cabins  were  simply 
a  museum  of  the  rarest  woods,  and  in  the  main  cabin  was 
a  little  tiled  fireplace  with  brass  dogs  and  andirons,  its 
graceful  curtains  reined  in  with  chains.  The  cabins  alone 
had  cost  a  fortune,  and  the  Dusenalls  were  for  once  com- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


171 


pletely  taken  aback.  Mrs.  Dusenall  did  not  get  her  head 
over  on  one  ^ide  a  la  duchesse  any  more  that  day,  and  it 
ended  in  her  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  Americans  in 
their  hospitalities  may  frequently  have  no  other  motive 
than  to  give  pleasure.  This  could  only  be  realized  by 
Britons  able  to  denationalize  themselves  so  far  as  to 
understand  that  there  may  be  a  life  on  earth  which  is  not 
alternate  patronage  and  sponging.  It  is  to  be  feared 
though  that  most  of  them  receive  attentions  from  Ameri- 
cans only  as  that  which  should,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
things,  be  forthcoming  from  a  people  blessed  with  a  proper 
power  to  appreciate  those  excellent  qualities  of  head  and 
heart  with  which  the  visitor  represents  his  incomparable 
nation. 

Mr.  Cowper  did  not  do  things  by  halves.  As  they  sped 
about  among  the  many  islands  the  strains  of  harps  and 
violins  came  pleasantly  from  some  place  about  the  boat 
where  the  musicians  could  not  be  seen.  A  number  of 
people  from  the  hotels  and  islands  were  also  among  Mr. 
Cowper's  guests,  and  Mr.  Withers,  as  a  sort  of  aid-de- 
camp, assisted  the  host  in  bringing  everybody  together  and 
in  seeing  that  the  colored  waiters  with  trays  of  iced  liquids 
did  their  duty.  One  room  down  below  was  reserved  for 
the  inspection  of  "  the  boys,"  a  room  which  had  received 
a  good  deal  of  personal  attention  and  in  which  any  drink 
known  to  the  civilized  world  could  be  procured.  Mr. 
Withers  confidentially  invited  our  friends  to  name  any- 
thing liquid  under  the  sun  they  fancied — from  nectar  to 
nitric  acid.  For  himself,  he  said  that  "  that  champagne 
and  stuff  "  going  round  on  deck  was  not  to  his  taste,  and 
he  had  the  deft-handed  "  barkeep  "  mix  one  of  his  own 
cocktails.  His  own  invention  in  this  direction  was  com- 
posed of  eight  or  ten  ingredients,  and  the  Canadians  were 
polite  enough  to  praise  the  mixture  ;  but,  afterward,  when 
among  themselves,  Jack's  confession  met  with  acquies- 


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172 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


cence  when  he  said  it  seemed  nothing  but  hell-fire  and 
bitters. 

The  long,  narrow  craft  threaded  its  tortuous  way  like  a 
smooth-gliding  fish  through  the  little  channels  between 
the  islands,  passing  up  small  natural  harbors  or  coming 
alongside  a  precipitous  rock.  They  several  times  disem- 
barked to  see  how  much  art  had  assisted  nature  on  the 
different  islands,  and  viewed  the  fishponds,  summer  houses, 
awnings,  and  hammocks,  and  the  taste  displayed  in  the 
picturesque  dwellings.  Mr.  Cowper's  assurances  that  the 
owners  of  the  islands  would  not  object  to  be  caught  in 
any  kind  of  occupation  or  garment  were  corroborated  by 
the  warm  welcomes  extended  to  them.  Such  is  the  freedom 
of  the  American  citizen,  that  a  good  many  of  the  islanders 
who  heard  Mr.  Cowper  was  having  a  picnic  "  guessed  they'd 
go  along,  too."  It  was  evidently  expected  that  they  would 
do  just  as  they  liked,  without  being  invited ;  in  fact,  Mr. 
Cowper  loudly  objected  in  several  cases,  declaring  he  had 
no  provisions  for  them.  "  Never  mind,  old  man,  we're 
not  proud.  We'll  whack  up  with  your  last  crust,  and 
bring  a  pocket-flask  for  ourselves." 

This  seemed  friendly. 

Of  course  the  lunch,  which  was  found  to  be  spread 
under  a  large  marquee  on  a  distant  island,  was  really  an- 
other banquet.  The  hotel  retinue  had  been  up  all  night 
preparing  for  it.  The  waiters,  glass,  table-linen,  flowers, 
and  everything  else  showed  what  money  could  do  in  the 
way  of  transformation  scenes.  The  only  fault  about  it  was 
that  it  was  too  magnificent  for  a  picnic.  It  can  not  be  a 
picnic  when  there  is  no  chance  of  eating  sand  with  your 
game-pie,  no  chance  of  carrying  pails  of  water  half  a  mile, 
no  difficulty  in  keeping  stray  cows,  dogs,  and  your  own  feet 
out  of  the  table-cloth  spread  upon  the  ground.  And  when 
the  trip  in  the  steamer  had  ended  and  most  of  our  crew 
were  having  a  little  doze  on  the  Ideal  during  the  latter 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


»73 


part  of  the  afternoon,  the  curiosity  which  Mr.  Cowper  had 
awakened  was  still  at  its  height. 

After  dinner  that  evening,  about  eight  o'clock,  a  pretty 
picture  might  have  been  made  of  the  Ideal,  as  she  lay  in 
the  shadows,  moored  to  a  well-wooded  island  where  the 
rock  banks  seemed  to  dive  perpendicularly  into  bkie 
fathomless  depths.  The  party  were  taking  their  coffee  in 
the  open  air  for  greater  coolness,  and  all  had  arrayed  them- 
selves for  the  dance  in  the  evening.  The  delicately  shaded 
muslins  and  such  thin  fabrics  as  the  ladies  wore  blended 
pleasantly  with  the  soft  evening  after-glow  that  fell  upon 
the  rustling  trees  and  running  water.  Seated  on  the  over- 
hanging rocks  beside  the  yacht,  or  perched  up  on  the 
stowed  mainsail,  they  not  only  supplied  soft  color  to  the 
darkling  evening  hues,  but  seemed  to  have  a  glow  of  their 
own,  and  reminded  one  of  Chinese  lanterns  lit  before  it 
is  dark.  This  may  have  been  only  a  fancy,  helped 
out  by  radiant  faces  and  the  slanting  evening  lights,  but, 
even  if  the  s'mile  fails,  they  were  certainly  prepared  to 
shine  as  brightly  as  they  knew  how  at  the  ball  later  on. 

The  little  bass-wood  canoe,  with  its  comfortable  rugs 
and  cushions,  lay  beside  the  yacht,  bobbing  about  in  the 
evening  breeze,  and  Margaret  sat  dreamily  watching  its 
wayward  movements. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts  ?  "  asked  somebody. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  answered  Margaret,  "  that  the  canoe 
is  the  only  craft  that  ought  to  be  allowed  in  these  waters, 
and  that  the  builders  of  houses  on  these  islands  ought  to 
realize  that  the  only  dwelling  artistically  correct  should  be 
one  that  either  copies  or  suggests  the  wigwam.  No  one 
can  come  among  these  islands  without  wondering  how 
long  the  Indians  lived  here.  All  the  Queen  Anne  archi- 
tecture we  have  seen  to-day  has  seemed  to  me  to  be  alto- 
gether misplaced.'* 

"What  you  suggest  could  hardly  be  expected  here," 


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174 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


'i  ,   ; 


said  Geoffrey,  "because,  putting  aside  the  difficulty  of 
building  a  commodious  house  which  would  still  resemble  a 
wigwam,  there  remains  the  old  difficulty  of  getting  people 
to  see  in  imagination  what  is  not  before  them — the  old 
difficulty  that  gave  us  the  madonnas,  saints,  and  heroes 
as  Dutch,  Italian,  or  English,  according  to  the  nationality 
of  the  painter.  Of  all  the  pictures  of  Christ  scattered  over 
Europe,  none  that  I  have  seen  could  have  been  like  a  per- 
son living  much  in  the  open  air  of  the  Holy  Land.  They 
will  paint  Joseph  as  brown  as  the  air  there  will  make  any- 
body, because  it  does  not  matter  about  Joseph,  but  the 
Christs  are  always  ideal." 

"  Still,  I  am  sure  something  might  be  done  to  carry  out 
my  idea,"  said  Margaret,  keeping  to  the  subject.  "  Surely 
localiti^rs  have  the  same  right  to  be  illustrated  according 
to  their  traditions  thai-  nations  have  to  expect  that  their 
heroes  shall  be  painted  so  as  to  show  their  nationality. 
No  one  would  paint  the  Arab  desert  and  leave  Dut  the 
squat  bbck  tent,  the  horse,  and  all  the  other  adjuncts  of 
the  Bedouin.  Why,  then,  build  Queen  Anne  houses  in  a 
place  where  the  mind  refuses  to  think  of  anything  but 
the  Indian  ? " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Hampstead,  "*  the  case  here  is  unique. 
It  is  difficult  to  find  a  parallel.  But  the  same  idea 
would  present  itself  if  one  attempted  to  build  an  Eng- 
lish church  in  the  Moorish  style  instead  of  the  Gothic 
or  something  similar.  I  fancy  that  the  subscribers  would 
feel  that  the  traditions  of  their  race  and  native  land 
were  not  being  properly  represented,  as  you  say,  in  their 
architecture — that  they  would  resent  an  Oriental  luxury  of 
outline  suggesting  only  Mohammed's  luxurious  religion,  and 
that  nothing  would  fuit  thein  but  the  high,  severe,  and 
moral  aspect  of  their  own  race,  religion,  and  churches. 
By  the  way,  did  you  ever  consider  how  the  moral  alti- 
tude of  each  religion  throughout  the  world  is  indelibly 


m 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


175 


Stamped  in  the  very  shape  of  each  one's  houses  of  worship. 
Begin  at  the  whimsical  absurdities  of  the  Chinese,  and 
come  westward  to  the  monstrosities  of  India,  then  to  the 
voluptuous  domes  of  the  Moor  and  the  less  voluptuous 
domes  of  Constantinople,  then  to  the  still  less  Oriental 
domes  of  Rome,  then  to  the  fortress-like  rectangular  Nor- 
man, then  to  the  lofty,  refined,  severe,  upward-pointing 
Gothic  of  Germany  and  England.  Each  church  along  the 
whole  line,  by  its  mere  external  shape,  will  tell  of  the 
people  and  religion  that  built  it  better  than  a  host  of 
words." 

"  If  that  be  so,  it  would  seem  like  retrograding  in 
architecture  to  suggest  the  Indian  wigwam  here,"  said 
Jack.     "What  do  you  say,  Margaret?" 

"  I  think  that  this  is  not  a  place  where  national  aspira- 
tions in  monuments  need  be  looked  for.  Its  claims  ni.ist 
always  be  on  the  side  of  simple  nature  and  the  pictur- 
esque— a  place  for  hard  workers  to  recuperate  in,  and, 
therefore,  the  poetry  of  all  its  early  traditions  should  in 
every  way  be  protected  and  suggested." 

"  Of  course,  I  suppose,  Miss  Margaret,  the  Indian  you 
wish  to  immortalize  is  John  Fenimore  Cooper's  Indian, 
and  that  you  have  no  reference  to  Batoche  half-breeds. 
Perhaps  after  a  while  we  may  see  the  genius  of  this  place 
suggested  further,  but  I  think  the  Americans  have  had 
too  much  trouble  in  exterminating  *Lo,  the  poor  Indian' 
to  wish  to  be  reminded  of  his  former  existence,  and  that 
the  savagery  of  Queen  Anne  is  sufficient  for  them.  *  Lo ' 
has,  for  them,  no  more  poetry  than  a  professional  tramp. 
Out  West,  you  know,  they  read  it  *  Loathe  the  poor 
Indian.' " 

"  They  don't  loathe  the  poor  Indian  everywhere,"  said 
Rankin,  as  he  remembered  an  item  about  the  dusky  race. 
"  You  know  our  act  forbidding  people  to  work  on  Sunday 
makes  a  provision  for  the  unconverted  heathen,  and  says 


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176 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


*  this  act  shall  not  apply  to  Indians.*  Some  time  ago  a  man 
at  the  Falls  of  Niagara  was  accustomed  to  run  an  elevator 
on  Sunday  to  carry  tourists  up  and  down  the  cliff  to  the 
Whirlpool  Rapids.  His  employes  were  prosecuted  for 
carrying  on  their  business  on  the  Sabbath  day.  When  the 
following  Sunday  arrived,  a  quite  civilized  remnant  of  the 
Tuscarora  tribe  were  running  the  entire  business  at  splen- 
did profits,  and  claimed,  apparently  with  success,  that  the 
law  could  not  touch  them." 

While  this  desultory  talk  was  going  on,  Margaret  was 
still  watching  the  little  canoe  bobbing  about  on  the  water. 
Geoffrey  said  to  her :  "  Those  rugs  and  cushions  in  the 
canoe  look  very  inviting,  do  they  not  ? " 

Margaret  nodded. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  about,"  he  whispered. 
"  You  want  to  go  away  in  the  canoe,  and  dream  over  the 
waters  and  glide  about  from  island  to  island  and  imagine 
yourself  an  Indian  princess." 

She  nodded  again  brightly. 

"  Well,  if  my  dress-coat  will  not  interfere  with  your 
imagining  me  a  *  great  brave,*  you  might  get  your  gloves, 
fan,  and  shawl,  and  we  can  go  for  a  sail,  and  come  in  later 
on  at  the  dance.  If  the  coat  spoils  me  you  can  think 
of  me  as  John  Smith,  and  of  yourself  as  Pocahontas." 

As  Margaret  nestled  down  into  the  cushions  of  the 
canoe,  Geoffrey  stepped  a  little  mast  that  carried  a  hand- 
kerchief of  a  sail,  and,  getting  in  himself,  gave  a  few  vigor- 
ous strokes  with  the  paddle,  which  sent  the  craft  flying 
from  under  the  lee  of  the  island.  As  the  sail  filled  and 
they  skimmed  away,  he  called  out  to  Mrs.  Dusenall  that 
they  would  go  and  see  the  people  at  the  hotels,  and  would 
meet  them  at  the  dance  about  nine  o*clock.  From  the 
course  taken  by  the  butterfly  of  a  boat,  which  was  in  any 
direction  except  toward  the  hotels,  this  explanatory  state- 
ment appeared  to  be  a  mere  transparency. 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


1/7 


Nina's  spirits  sank  to  low  ebb  when  she  saw  these  two 
going  off  together. 

They  sailed  on  for  some  distance  in  open  water,  and 
then,  as  the  sail  proved  unsatisfactory,  Margaret  took  it 
down,  and  they  commenced  a  sinuous  course  among  small 
islands.  The  dusk  of  the  evening  had  still  some  of  the 
light  of  day  in  it,  but  the  moon  was  already  up  and  en- 
deavoring to  assert  her  power.  Everybody  had  given  up 
wearing  hats,  which  had  become  unnecessary  in  such 
weather.  As  they  glided  about,  Geoffrey  sometimes  faced 
the  current  with  long,  silent  strokes  that  gave  no  idea  of 
exertion  foreign  to  the  quiet  charm  of  the  scene,  and  at 
other  times  the  paddle  dragged  lazily  through  the  water  as 
he  sat  back  and  allowed  the  canoe  to  drift  along  on  the  cur- 
rent close  to  the  rocky  islands.  They  floated  past  breezy 
nooks  where  the  ferns  and  mosses  filled  the  interstices 
between  rocks  and  tree  roots,  where  trees  had  grown  up 
misshapenly  between  the  rocks,  under  wild  creeping  vines 
that  drooped  from  the  overhanging  boughs  and  sv/ept  the 
flowing  water.  Hardly  a  word  had  been  spoken  since 
they  left  the  yacht.  For  Margaret,  there  was  enough  in 
the  surroundings  to  keep  her  silent.  She  had  yielded  her- 
self to  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  balmy  air  and  faint  even- 
ing glows,  changing  landscape,  and  sound  of  gurgling 
water.  Her  own  appearance  as  seen  from  the  other  end 
of  the  canoe  did  not  tend  to  spoil  the  view.  Her  happy 
face  and  graceful  lines,  and  the  full  neck  that  tapered  out 
of  the  open-throated  evening  dress  did  not  seem  out  of 
harmony  with  anything.  Reclining  on  one  elbow  against 
a  cushioned  thwart,  she  leaned  forward  and  altered  the 
course  of  the  light  bark  by  giving  a  passing  rock  a  little 
push  with  her  fan. 

They  were  now  passing  a  sort  of  natural  harbor  on  the 
shore  of  one  of  the  islands.  It  had  been  formed  by  the 
displacement  of  a  huge  block  of  granite  from  the  side  of 


•id 

:» 


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178 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


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.«<M 

the  rock  wall,  and  the  roots  and  trunks  of  trees  had  roofed 
it  in. 

Geoffrey  pointed  it  out  for  inspection,  and  they  landed 
lower  down  so  that  they  could  walk  back  to  a  spot  like 
that  to  which  Shelley's  Rosalind  and  Helen  came. 

To  a  stone  seat  beside  a  stream, 

O'er  which  the  columned  wood  did  frame 

A  rootless  temple,  like  a  fane 

Where,  ere  new  creeds  could  faith  obtain, 

Man's  early  race  once  knelt  beneath 

The  overhanging  Deity. 

Here  they  rested,  while  Margaret,  lost  in  the  charm  of 
the  surroundings,  exclaimed  : 

"  Could  anything  be  more  delightful  than  this  ?  '* 
Geoffrey  had  always  been  conscious  of  something  in 
Margaret's  presence  which,  seemingly  without  demand, 
exacted  finer  thought  and  led  him  to  some  unknown 
region  which  other  women  did  not  suggest.  When  with 
her  he  divined  that  it  was  by  some  such  influence  that  men 
are  separately  civilized,  and  that,  with  her,  his  own  civili- 
zation was  possible.  Every  short-lived,  ill-considered 
hope  for  the  future  seemed  now  so  entangled  with  her 
identity  that  her  existence  had  become  in  some  way  neces- 
sary to  him.  He  had  come  to  know  this  by  discovering 
how  unfeigned  was  the  earnestness  with  which  he  angled 
for  her  good  opinion,  and  he  was  rather  puzzled  to  note 
his  care  lest  "a  word  too  much  or  a  look  too  long*'  might 
spoil  his  chances  of  arriving  at  some  higher,  happier  life 
that  her  presence  assisted  him  vaguely  to  imagine.  Nev- 
ertheless, so  great  was  his  doubt  as  to  his  own  character 
that  all  this  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  must  be  merely  mas- 
querading in  sheep's  clothing  to  gain  her  consideration, 
and  that  it  must  in  some  way  soon  come  to  an  end  from 
his  own  sheer  inability  to  live  up  to  it.  All  he  knew  was 
that  this  living  up  to  an  ide5.1  self  was  a  civilizing  process, 


ii 


J  m 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTE;AD. 


179 


and  if  he  did  not  count  upon  its  permanency  it  certainly, 
he  thought,  did  him  no  harm  while  it  lasted.  "  After  all, 
was  it  not  possible  to  continue  in  the  upper  air?" 

While  his  thoughts  were  running  in  this  channel,  such 
a  long  pause  elapsed  that  Margaret  had  forgotten  what  he 
was  answering  to  when  he  said  decisively  :  ''  Yes.  It  is 
pleasant." 

She  looked  around  at  him  because  his  voice  sounded 
as  if  he  had  been  weighing  other  things  than  the  scenery 
in  his  head. 

"  Oh,  it  is  more  than  pleasant,"  she  said.  "  It  is  some- 
thing never  to  forget."  Margaret  looked  away  over  earth, 
water,  and  sky,  as  if  to  point  them  out  to  interpret  her  en- 
thusiasm. Her  range  of  view  apparently  did  not  include 
Geoffrey.  Perhaps  he  was  to  understand  from  this  that 
he,  personally,  had  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  her  pleasure. 
But  a  glimpse  of  one  idea  suggested  more  serious  thought, 
and  the  next  moment  she  was  wondering  how  much  he 
had  to  do  with  her  present  thorough  content. 

Geoffrey,  who  was  watching  her  thoughts  by  noticing 
the  half  smile  and  half  blush  that  came  to  her  face,  felt 
his  heart  give  a  little  bound.  He  imagined  he  divined 
the  presence  of  the  thought  that  puzzled  her,  but  he  an- 
swered in  the  off-hand  way  in  which  one  deals  with  gener- 
alities. 

**  I  believe.  Miss  Margaret,  this  whole  trip  provides 
you  with  great  happiness." 

"  I  believe  it  does,"  said  Margaret.  To  conceal  a 
sense  of  consciousness  she  uprooted  a  rush  growing  at  the 
edge  of  the  rock  seat. 

"  Well,  that  is  a  great  thing,  to  know  when  you  are 
happy.     Happiness  is  a  difficult  thing  to  get  at." 

**  Do  you  find  it  so  hard  to  be  happy  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  do,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  That  is,  to  be  as 
much  so  as  I  would  like." 


-m^ 


1 80 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


J 


"  You  must  be  rather  difficult  to  please." 

"  No  doubt  it  is  a  mistake  not  to  be  happy  all  the 
time,"  replied  Geoffrey.  "  There  is  such  a  thing,  however, 
as  chasing  happiness  about  the  world  too  long.  She  shakes 
her  wings  and  does  not  return,  and  leaves  us  nothing  but 
not  very  exalting  memories  of  times  when  we  seem,  as  far 
as  we  can  recollect,  to  have  been  only  momentarily  happy." 

"  For  me,  I  think  that  I  could  never  forget  a  great  hap- 
piness, that  it  would  light  up  my  life  and  make  it  bearable 
no  matter  what  the  after  conditions  might  be,"  said  Mar- 
garet  thoughtfully. 

**  Just  so,"  answered  Geoffrey  lightly.  "There's  the 
rub.  How's  a  fellow  to  cultivate  a  great  happiness  when 
he  never  can  catch  up  to  it.  I  don't  know  of  any  path  in 
which  I  have  not  sought  for  the  jade,  but  I  can  look  back 
upon  a  life  largely  devoted  to  this  chase  and  honestly  say 
that  beyond  a  few  gleams  of  poor  triumph  I  never  think 
of  my  existence  except  as  a  period  during  which  I  have 
been  forced  to  kill  time." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  not  spiritually  minded,"  said 
Margaret,  smiling. 

"I  suppose  you  mean  consistently  spiritually  minded," 
said  Geoffrey.  "  No  doubt  some  who  live  for  an  exalted 
hereafter  may  sometimes  know  what  actual  joy  is,  but 
this  can  only  approach  continuity  where  one  has  great 
imaginative  ambition  and  weak  primitive  leanings.  For 
most  people  the  chances  of  happiness  in  spirituality  are 
not  good.  Happily,  the  savage  mind  can  not  grasp  the 
intended  meaning  of  either  the  promised  rewards  or  pun- 
ishments continually,  if  at  all;  and  this  inability  saves 
them  from  going  mad.  Of  course  the  more  men  improve 
themselves  the  more  they  m.ay  rejoice,  both  for  themselves 
and  their  posterity,  but  mere  varnished  savages  like  my- 
self have  a  poor  chance  to  gain  happiness  in  consistent 
spirituality.     It  is  foolish  to  suppose  that  we  are  free  agents. 


H 


GEOFFREY   HaMPSTEAD. 


I8l 


A  high  morality  and  its  own  happi  icss  are  an  heirloom — a 
desirable  thing — which  our  forefathers  have  constructed 
for  us." 

"  I  have  sometimes  thought,"  said  Margaret,  "  that  if 
happiness  depends  upon  one's  goodness  it  is  not  necessa- 
rily that  goodness  which  we  are  taught  to  recognize  as 
such.  Goodness  seems  to  be  relative  and  quite  change- 
able among  different  people.  Some  of  the  best  people 
under  the  Old  Testament  would  not  shine  as  saints  under 
the  New  Testament,  yet  the  older  people  were  doubtless 
happy  enough  in  their  beliefs.  Desirable  observances 
necessary  to  a  Mohammedan's  goodness  are  not  made  requi- 
site in  any  European  faith,  and  yet  our  people  are  not 
unhappy  on  this  account.  Nobody  can  doubt  that  pagan 
priests  were,  and  are,  completely  happy  when  weltering  in 
the  blood  of  their  fellow-creatures,  and,  if  it  be  true  that 
conscience  is  divinely  implanted  in  all  men,  that  under 
divine  guidance  it  is  an  infallible  judge  between  good 
and  evil,  that  one  may  be  happy  when  his  conscience  ap- 
proves his  actions,  and  that  therefore  happiness  comes 
from  God,  how  is  it  that  the  pagan  priest  while  at  such 
work  is  able  to  think  himself  holy  and  to  rejoice  in  it 
with  clearest  conscience  ?  It  would  seem,  from  this,  that 
there  must  be  different  goodnesses  diametrically  opposed 
to  each  other  which  are  equally  pleasing  to  Plim  and 
equally  productive  of  happiness  to  individuals." 

Geoffrey  smiled  at  her,  as  they  talked  on  in  their  usual 
random  way,  for  it  seemed  that  she  was  capable  of  piecing 
her  knowledge  together  in  the  same  sequence  (or  disorder) 
that  he  did  himself.  One  is  well-disposed  toward  a  mind 
whose  processes  are  similar  to  one's  own.  He  smiled,  too, 
at  her  attempts  to  reconcile  facts  with  the  idea  of  benefi- 
cence toward  individuals  on  the  part  of  the  powers  behind 
nature.     For  his  part,  he  had  abandoned  that  attempt. 

"  I  have  a  rule,"  he  said,  "  which  seems  to  me  to  ex- 


i 

y 


* 


I82 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


kr..>l  ! 


m. 


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#v 


til 

r? 

Ii 

: 
1 

1 

1 

plain  a  good  deal,  namely,  if  a  person  can  become  per- 
suaded that  he  is  rendered  better  or  more  spiritual  by 
following  out  his  natural  desires,  he  is  one  of  the  happiest 
of  men.  The  pagan  priest  you  mentioned  was  gratifying 
his  natural  desires,  his  love  of  power  and  love  of  cruelty 
— which  in  conjunction  with  his  beliefs  made  him  feel  more 
godly.  Mohammed  built  his  vast  religion  on  the  very  cor- 
ner-stone of  this  rule.  Priests  are  taught  from  the  begin- 
ning to  guard  and  increase  the  power  of  the  Church.  This 
is  their  first  great  trust,  and  it  becomes  a  passion.  Their 
natural  love  of  power  is  utilized  for  this  purpose.  For 
this  object,  history  tells  us  that  no  human  tie  is  too  sacred 
to  be  torn  asunder  and  trampled  on.  Natural  love  of 
dominion  in  a  man  can  be  trained  into  such  perfect 
accord  with  the  desired  dominion  of  a  priesthood  that  he 
may  feel  not  only  happy  but  spiritually  improved  in  car- 
rying out  anything  his  Church  requires  him  to  do — no  mat- 
ter what  that  may  be." 

Geoffrey  stopped,  as  he  noticed  that  Margaret  shud- 
dered.    *'  You  are  feeling  cold,"  he  said. 

"  No,  I  was  only  thinking  of  some  of  the  priests' 
faces.  They  terrify  me  so.  I  don't  want  to  interrupt 
you,  but  what  do  you  think  makes  them  look  like  that  ?  " 

Geoffrey  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "Perhaps  interpreting 
the  supernatural  has  with  some  of  them  a  bad  effect  upon 
the  countenance.  All  one  can  say  is  that  many  of  them 
bear  in  their  faces  what  in  other  classes  of  men  I  consider 
to  be  unmistakable  signs  that  their  greatest  happiness  con- 
fists  in  something  which  must  be  concealed  from  the  pub- 
lic." Hampstead  spoke  with  the  tired  smile  of  one  who 
on  an  unpleasant  subject  thinks  more  than  he  will  say. 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  them.  They  make  me  think  of 
Violet  Keith,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Go  back  to  what 
you  were  saying.     It  seems  to  me  that  the  most  refined 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


183 


and  educated  followers  of  different  faiths  do  not  gain  hap- 
piness in  spirituality  in  the  way  you  suggest.  Your  rule 
does  not  seem  to  apply  to  them." 

"  I  think  it  does,"  anwered  Geoffrey,  with  some  of  that 
abruptness  which  in  a  man's  argument  with  a  woman 
seems  to  accept  her  as  a  worthy  antagonist  from  the  fact 
that  politeness  is  a  trifle  forgotten.  "  You  refer  to  men 
whose  mental  temperament  is  stronger  in  controlling  their 
daily  life  than  any  other  influence — men  with  high  heads, 
who  seem  made  of  moral  powers— ideality,  conscientious- 
ness, and  all  the  rest  of  them.  They  have  got  the  heir- 
loom 1  spoke  of.  They  are  gentle  from  their  family  modi- 
fication. These  few,  indeed,  can,  I  imagine,  be  happy  in 
religion,  for  this  reason.  There  has  been  in  their  families 
for  many  generations  a  production  of  mental  activity, 
which  exists  more  easily  in  company  with  a  high  morality 
than  with  satisfactions  which  would  only  detract  from  it. 
With  such  men  it  may  be  said  that  their  earlier  nature  has 
partly  changed  into  what  the  rule  applies  to  equally  well. 
With  ordinary  social  pressure  and  their  own  temperament 
they  would  still,  even  without  religion,  be  what  they  are  ; 
because  any  other  mode  of  life  does  not  sufficiently  at- 
tract them.  Their  ancestors  went  through  what  we  are 
enduring  now." 

**  Bl'^/*  said  Margaret — and  she  continued  to  offer  some 
objections,  chiefly  to  lead  Geoffrey  to  talk  on.  However 
incomplete  his  reasoning  r.iight  be,  his  strong  voice  was 
becoming  music  to  her.  She  did  not  wish  it  to  stop.  Both 
her  heart  and*her  mind  seemed  impelled  toward  both  him 
and  his  way  of  thinking  by  the  echo  of  the  resonant  tones 
which  she  heard  within  herself.  Being  a  woman,  she 
found  this  pleasant.  "But,"  she  said,  "people  who  are 
most  imperfect  surely  may  have  great  happiness  in  their 
faith  ?  " 

"At  times.     Yes,"  replied  he.     "But  their  happiness 


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IS  temporary,  and  necessarily  alternates  with  an  equal 
amount  of  misery.  The  loss  of  a  hope  capable  of  giving 
joy  must  certainly  bring  despair  in  the  same  proportion, 
inversely,  as  the  hope  was  precious.  All  ordinary  men 
with  any  education  alternate  more  or  less  between  the  en- 
joyment of  the  energetic  mental  life  and  the  duller  follow- 
ing of  earlier  instincts,  and  when,  in  the  mental  life,  they 
allow  themselves  to  delight  in  immaterial  hopes  and  vis- 
ions, there  is  unhappiness  when  the  brain  refuses  to  con- 
jure up  the  vision,  and  most  complete  misery  after  there 
has  occurred  that  transition  to  their  older  natures  which 
must  at  times  supervene,  unless  they  possess  the  great 
moral  heirloom,  or  perhaps  a  refining  bodily  infirmity  to 
assist  them.  Ah  !  this  struggle  after  happiness  has  been  a 
long  one.  Solomon,  and  all  who  seek  it  in  the  way  he 
did,  find  their  mistake.  Pleasure  without  ideality  is  a 
paltry  thing  and  leads  to  disgust.  Religion-makers  have 
hovered  about  the  idea  contained  in  my  rule  to  make 
their  creeds  acceptable.  In  this  idea  Mohammed  pleased 
many.  Happiness  in  spirituality  can  only  be  continuous 
for  men  when  they  come  to  have  faces  like  some  passion- 
less but  tender-hearted  women,  and  still  retain  the  wish  to 
imagine  themselves  as  something  like  gods." 

Geoffrey  paused. 

"Go  on,"  said  Margaret,  turning  her  eyes  slowly  from 
looking  at  the  running  water  without  seeing  it.  She  said 
very  quietly :  "  Go  on ;  I  like  to  hear  you  talk."  The 
spell  of  his  presence  was  upon  her.  There  was  the  soft 
look  in  her  eyes  of  a  woman  who  is  beginning  to  find  it 
pleasant  to  be  in  some  way  compelled,  and  for  a  moment 
her  tones,  looks,  and  words  seemed  to  be  all  a  part  of  a 
musical  chord  to  interpret  her  response  to  his  influence. 
Geoffrey  looked  away.  The  time  for  trusting  himself  to 
look  into  the  eyes  that  seemed  very  sweet  in  their  new 
softness  had  not  arrived.     For  the  first  time  he  felt  cer- 


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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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tain  that  he  had  affected  her  favorably.  Almost  involun- 
tarily he  took  a  couple  of  steps  to  the  water's  edge  and 
back  again. 

"What  is  there  more  to  say  ?"  said  he,  smiling.  "We 
neither  hope  very  much  nor  fear  very  much  nowadays. 
Men  who  have  no  scientific  discovery  in  view  or  who  can 
not  sufficiently  idealize  their  lives  gradually  cease  expect- 
ing to  be  very  happy.  To  men  like  myself  religions  are  a 
more  or  less  developed  form  of  delusion,  bringing  most 
people  joy  and  despair  alternately  and  leading  others  to 
insanity.  We  know  that  religions  commenced  in  fear  and 
in  their  later  stages  have  been  the  result  of  a  seeking  for 
happiness  and  consolation.  To  us  the  idea  of  immortal- 
ity is  but  a  development  of  the  inherent  conceit  we  notice 
in  the  apes.  We  do  not  allow  ourselves  the  pleasing  fan- 
tasy that  because  brain  power  multiplies  itself  and  evolves 
quickly  we  are  to  become  as  gods  in  the  future.  If  we  do 
not  hope  much  neither  do  we  despair.  Still,  there  is  a 
capacity  for  joy  within  us  which  sometimes  seems  to  be 
cramped  by  the  level  and  unexciting  mediocrity  of  exist- 
ence. We  do  not  readily  forget  the  beautiful  hallucina- 
tions of  our  youth  ;  and  for  most  of  us  there  will,  I  imag- 
ine, as  long  as  the  pulses  beat,  be  an  occasional  and  too 
frequent  yearning  for  a  joy  able  to  lift  us  out  of  our  hum- 
drum selves." 

Margaret  felt  a  sort  of  sorrow  for  Geoffrey.  Although 
he  spoke  lightly,  something  in  his  last  words  struck  a 
minor  chord  in  her  heart.  '*  Your  words  seem  too  sad," 
she  said  after  a  pause. 

**  I  do  not  remember  speaking  sadly,"  said  he. 

"  No ;  but  to  believe  all  this  seems  sad  when  we  con- 
sider the  joyful  prospects  of  others.  You  seem  to  put  my 
vigue  ideas  into  coherent  shape.  The  things  you  have 
said  seem  to  be  correct,  and  yet "  (here  she  looked  up 
brightly)  "somehow  they  don't  seem  to  exactly  apply  ^^  ^e. 


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I  never  had  strong  hopes  nor  visions  about  immortality. 
They  never  seemed  neceasary  for  my  happiness.  Small 
things  please  me.  I  am  nearly  always  fairly  happy.  Small 
things  seem  worLh  seeking  and  Sniall  pleasures  worth  cul- 
tivating." 

"  Because  you  have  not  lived  your  life.  Do  you  imag- 
ine that  you  will  always  be  content  with  small  pleasures?  " 
asked  Geoffrey  quickly  as  he  watched  her  thoughtful  face. 

Margaret  suddenly  felt  constraint.  After  the  many 
and  long  interviews  she  had  had  with  Geoffrey  she  had 
always  come,  away  feeling  as  if  she  had  learned  some- 
thing. What  it  was  that  she  had  learned  might  have  been 
hard  for  her  to  say.  His  conversation  seemed  to  her  to 
have  a  certain  width  and  scope  about  it,  and  to  her  he 
seemed  to  grasp  generalities  and  present  them  in  his 
own  condensed  form;  but  she  had  been  unconsciously 
learning  more  than  was  contained  in  his  conversation. 
His  words  generally  appealed  in  some  way  to  her  intel- 
lect ;  but  tones  of  voice  go  for  a  good  deal.  Perhaps  in 
making  love  the  chief  use  of  words  is  first  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  other  person.  Perhaps  they  do  not  amount 
to  much  and  could  be  dispensed  with  entirely,  for  we  see 
that  a  dozen  suitors  may  unsuccessfully  plead  their  cause 
with  a  young  woman  in  similar  words  until  some  one  ap- 
pears with  tones  of  voice  to  which  she  vibrates.  Perhaps 
it  matters  little  what  he  says  if  he  only  continues  to  speak 
— to  make  her  vibrate.  Certainly  Cupid  studied  music 
before  he  ever  studied  etymology.  Hampstead  had  never 
said  a  word  to  her  about  love,  but  the  resonant  tones,  his 
concentration,  and  the  magnetism  of  his  presence,  were 
doing  their  work  without  any  usual  formulas. 

The  necessity  of  answering  his  question  now  brought 
the  idea  to  her  with  a  rush  that  Geoffrey  had  taught 
her  perhaps  too  much — that  he  had  taught  her  things 
different  from  what  she  thought  she  was  learning — that 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


187 


the  simplicity  of  her  life  would  never  be  quite  the  same 
again.  She  became  conscious  of  a  movement  in  her 
pulses  before  unknown  to.  her  that  made  her  heartbeat 
like  a  prisoned  bird  against  its  cage,  that  made  her  whole 
being  seem  to  strain  forward  toward  an  unknown  joy 
which  left  all  the  world  behind  it.  In  the  whirl  of  feel- 
ing came  the  impulse  to  conceal  her  face  lest  he  should 
detect  her  thoughts,  and  she  bent  her  head  to  arrange 
her  lace  shawi,  as  if  preparatory  to  going  away.  She 
looked  off  over  the  water,  so  that  she  could  answer 
more  freely.     Her  answer  came  haltingly. 

"  Something  tells  me,"  she  said,  "  that  the  small  pleas- 
ures 1  have  known  will  nut  always  be  enough  for  me." 
Then  faster :  "  But,  of  course,  all  young  people  feel  like 
this  now  and  then.  I  think  our  conversation  has  excited 
me  a  little."' 

She  arose,  and  walked  a  step  or  two,  trying  to  quell 
the  tumult  within  her. 

"  We  must  be  going.  It  is  late,"  she  said  in  a  way 
that  showed  her  self-command. 

Geoffrey  arose  also,  to  go  away,  and  they  walked  to 
the  higher  ground.  Suddenly  Margaret  felt  that  for  some 
reason  she  wished  to  remember  the  appearance  of  this  place 
for  all  her  life,  and  she  turned  to  view  it  again.  The  moon 
was  silvering  the  tracery  of  vines  and  foliage  and  the 
surface  of  the  twisting  water,  and  giving  dark-olive  tones 
to  the  shadowed  underbrush  close  by.  The  large  hotels 
could  be  seen  through  a  gap  in  the  islands  with  their 
many  lights  twinkling  in  the  distance;  a  lighthouse,  not 
far  off,  sent  a  red  gleam  twirling  and  twisting  across  the 
current  toward  them,  and  a  whip-poor-will  was  giving  forth 
its  notes,  while  the  waltz  music  from  the  far-away  island 
floated  dreamily  on  the  soft  evening  breeze.  Geoffrey  said 
nothing.  He,  too,  was  under  the  influence  of  the  scene. 
For  once  he  was  afraid  to  speak  to  a  woman — afraid  to  vcnt- 


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ure  what  he  had  to  say — to  win  or  lose  all.  He  thought 
it  better  to  wait,  and  stood  beside  her  almost  trembling. 
But  Margaret  had  had  no  experience  in  dealing  with  the 
new  feelings  that  warred  for  mastery  within  her,  and  she 
showed  one  of  her  thoughts,  as  if  in  soliloquy.  She  was 
too  innocent.  The  vague  pressures  were  too  great  to 
allow  her  to  be  silent,  and  the  words  came  forth  with 
hasty  fervor. 

"  No,  no  !  You  must  be  wrong  when  you  say  there  is 
nothing  in  the  world  worth  living  for  ? " 

*'  No,  not  so,"  interrupted  Geoffrey.  "  I  did  not  say 
that.  I  said  that  life,  for  many  of  us,  was  mediocre,  be- 
cause ideals  were  scarce  and  imaginations  did  not  find 
scope.  But  there  is  a  better  life — I  know  there  is — the 
better  life  of  sympathy — of  care — of  joy — of  love." 

As  she  listened,  each  deep  note  that  Geoffrey  sepa- 
rately brought  forth  filled  her  with  an  overwhelming  glad- 
ness. When  he  spoke  slowly  of  sympathy,  care,  joy,  and 
love,  the  words  were  freighted  with  the  musical  notes  of  a 
strong  man's  passion,  and  they  seemed  to  bring  a  new 
meaning  to  her,  one  deeper  than  they  had   ever   borne 

before. 

Earth  and  heaven  seemed  one, 

Life  a  glad  trembling  on  the  outer  edge 

Of  unknown  rapture. 

What  a  transparent  confession  the  love  of  a  great  na- 
ture may  be  suddenly  betrayed  into !  The  tears  welled 
up  into  Margaret's  eyes,  and,  partly  to  check  the  speech 
that  moved  her  too  strongly,  and  partly  to  steady  herself, 
and  chiefly  because  she  did  not  know  what  she  was  doing, 
she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

He  trembled  as  he  tried  to  continue  calmly  with  what 
he  had  been  saying.  He  did  not  move  his  arm  or  take  her 
hand,  but  her  touch  was  like  electricity. 

"  I  know  there  is  such  a  life — a  perfect  life — and  that 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


189 


there  might  be  such  a  life  for  me,  a  life  that  more  than 
exhausts  my  imagination  to  conceive  of.  You  were 
wrong  in  saying  that  I  said — that  is,  I  only  said — oh,  I 
can't  remember  what  I  said — I  only  know  that  I  worship 
you,  Margaret — that  you  are  my  heaven,  my  hereafter — 
the  only  good  I  know — with  power  to  make  or  mar,  to 
raise  me  from  myself  and  to  gild  the  whole  world  for 
me—" 

Margaret  put  up  her  hand  to  stay  the  torrent  of  his 
utterance.  She  had  to.  For,  now  that  he  gave  rein  to  his 
wish,  the  forceful  words  seemed  to  overwhelm  her  and  seize 
and  carry  off  her  very  soul.  He  took  her  hand  between 
both  of  his,  and,  still  fearful  lest  she  might  give  some  reason 
for  sending  him  away,  he  pleaded  for  himself  in  low  tones 
that  seemed  to  bring  her  heart  upon  her  lips,  and  when 
he  said  '•  "  Could  you  care  for  me  enough  to  let  me  love 
you  always,  Margaret  ? "  she  looked  half  away  and  over 
the  landscape  to  control  her  voice.  Her  tall,  full  figure 
rose,  like  an  Easter  lily,  from  the  folds  of  the  lace  shawl 
which  had  fallen  from  her  shoulders.  Her  eyes,  dewy  with 
overmuch  gladness  and  wide  with  new  emotions,  turned 
to  Geoffrey's  as  she  said,  half  aloud — as  if  wondering 
within  herself: 

"  It  must  be  so,  I  suppose.'* 

When  she  looked  at  him  thus,  Geoffrey  was  beyond 
speech.  He  drew  her  nearer  to  him,  touching  her  rever- 
ently. He  did  not  know  himself  in  the  fullness  of  the 
moment.  To  find  himself  incoherent  was  new  to  him. 
She  was  so  peerless — such  a  vision  of  loveliness  in  the 
moonlight !  The  thought  that  he  now  had  a  future  be- 
fore him — that  soon  she  would  be  with  him  for  always 
— that  soon  they  would  be  the  comfort,  the  sympathy, 
the  cheer,  and  the  joy  of  one  another !  It  was  all  un- 
speakable. 

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GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


he  drew  her  nearer,  and,  as  she  laid  her  cheek  upon  her 
wrists,  she  said  again,  as  if  still  wondering  within  her- 
self : 

"  It  must  be  so,  I  suppose.  I  did  not  know  that  I 
loved  you,  Geoffrey.     Oh,  why  are  you  so  masterful  ?  " 

A  little  while  after  this  they  approached  the  island, 
where  the  ball  was  at  its  height,  and  it  seemed  to  Margaret 
that  all  this  illumination  of  Chinese  lanterns,  ascending 
in  curving  lines  to  the  tree  tops — that  all  the  music,  danc- 
ing, and  gayety  were  part  of  the  festival  going  on  within 
her.  As  Geoffrey  strode  into  the  ball-room  with  Margaret 
on  his  arm  he  carried  his  head  high.  A  man  who  appeared 
well  in  any  garb,  in  evening  dress  he  looked  superb. 
Some  who  saw  him  that  night  never  forgot  how  he  seemed 
to  typify  the  majesty  of  manhood,  and  how  other  people 
seemed  dwarfed  to  insignificance  when  Margaret  and  he 
entered.  If  only  a  modified  elasticity  appeared  in  her 
step,  the  wonder  was  she  did  not  skip  down  the  room  on 
her  toes.  They  went  toward  Mrs.  Dusenall,  who  came 
forward  and  took  Margaret  by  the  elbows  and  gave  them 
a  little  shake. 

"  You  naughty  girl,  how  late  you  are  !  Dear  child, 
how  beautiful  you  look  !     Where — ?  " 

Some  imp  of  roguery  got  into  Margaret.  She  bent 
forward  and  whispered  to  her  motherly  friend. 

"  Dear  mother,"  she  whispered,  "  we  landed  on  an 
island,  and  Geoffrey  kissed  me." 

"  Heavens  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dusenall,  not  knowing  what 
to  think.  "  Why — but  of  course  it's  all  right.  Of  course 
he  did,  my  dear — he  could  not  do  anything  else — and  so 
will  I.     And  so  you  are  engaged  ?  " 

At  this  Margaret  tried  to  look  grave  and  to  shock  Mrs. 
Dusenall  again. 

"  I  don't  know.     I  don't  think  we  got  as  far  as  saying 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


191 


anything  about  that."  Then,  turning  to  Geoffrey,  with 
simplicity,  "  Are  we  engaged  ? " 

"  Girl !  are  my  words  but  as  wind  that  you  should 
mock  me  with  their  emptiness?  Come  and  let  us 
dance,  for  it  is  advocated  by  the  preacher."  And  they 
danced. 

When  Nina  had  seen  Mrs.  Duscnall  kiss  Margaret  on 
her  late  arrival,  she  knew  its  meaning  at  once,  and  her 
heart  sickened. 

Pretty  playthings  seemed  in  some  way  rather  degrad- 
ing to  Geoffrey  that  night,  and  Nina  was  able  to  speak 
to  him  only  for  a  moment,  just  before  all  were  going  away. 
She  then  pretended  to  know  nothing  about  the  engage- 
ment, and  said,  with  cat-like  sweetness : 

"  I  thought  you  did  not  care  for  Margaret's  dancing 
much  ?  I  see  she  nfUst  have  improved,  as  you  have  been 
with  her  all  the  evening." 

Geoffrey  answered  gravely  :  "  I  believe  you  are  right  ; 
there  is  a  difference.  Yes,  I  did  not  think  of  it  before, 
but,  now  you  speak  of  it,  there  does  seem  to  have  been 
an  improvement  in  her  dancing." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Nina. 

As  Geoffrey  paddled  the  canoe  back  to  the  yacht  that 
night,  or  rather  morning,  and  the  Yankee  band  had  finished 
a  complimentary  God  save  the  Queen,  and  after  the  last 
cheer  had  been  exchanged,  Margaret  said  to  him  in  the 
darkness,  just  before  they  parted  : 

**  If  there  were  no  more  happiness  to  follow,  Geoffrey, 
to-night  would  last  me  all  my  life  ! " 


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IQ2  GEOFFREY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

How  like  a  younker,  or  a  prodigal, 
The  scarfed  bark  puts  from  her  native  bay, 
Unpaged  and  embraced  by  the  wanton  wind. 
How  like  the  prodigal  doth  she  return, 
With  over-weathered  ribs  and  ragged  sails, 
Lean,  rent,  and  beggared  by  the  wanton  wind. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

Next  morning  the  deck  of  the  Ideal  was  all  activity. 
A  strong  northeasterly  wind  had  sprung  up,  so  that  by  a 
rare  chance  they  were  able  to  sail  up  the  current  instead 
of  employing  a  tug.  Only  the  paid  hands  and  one  or  two 
others  were  on  deck  as  they  struggled  up  the  stream  till 
near  Clayton.  Here  the  channels  opened  out,  the  current 
seemed  to  ease  up,  and  they  got  the  wind  continuously  as 
she  boiled  up  to  Kingston.  The  steward  went  ashore  at 
the  city,  and  there  was  a  delay  while  he  was  getting  in 
more  ice  for  the  refrigerator,  and  poultry,  and  other  sup- 
plies. Then  they  went  off  again,  flying  before  the  wind, 
past  the  wharves  of  Kingston  toward  Snake  Island  lying 
hull  down  and  showing  nothing  but  its  tree-tops. 

Breakfast  was  very  irregular  that  day — terribly  so,  the 
steward  thought.  He  was  preparing  breakfast  at  any  and 
all  times  up  to  twelve  o'clock,  and  after  that  it  was  called 
luncheon.  No  troublesome  bell  awoke  the  tired  sleepers, 
no  colored  man  came  to  take  away  their  beds  as  on  the 
sleeping-cars.  The  dancers  of  the  previous  night  tumbled 
up,  more  or  less  thirsty,  just  when  the  spirit  moved  them, 
and,  as  all  had  a  fair  quantum  of  sleep  in  this  way,  there 
were  no  bad  tempers  on  board,  except — well,  the  steward 
knew  enough  to  look  pleasant. 

It  was  a  fine  start  they  made.  But  it  did  not  last 
long.  During  the  night  the  heavy  water-laden  atmosphere 
began  to  break  up  into  low  clouds  that  went  flying  across 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


193 


the  face  of  the  moon,  producing  weird  effects  in  alternate 
light  and  darkness.  They  were  soon  close-hauled  on  a 
wind  from  the  southward,  and  before  the  port  of  Charlotte 
was  reached  they  had  a  long  tussel  with  a  stiff  breeze 
from  the  west — topmast  housed,  two  reefs  down,  and  the 
lee-scuppers  busy. 

At  dawn,  when  they  went  into  Charlotte,  it  was  blow- 
ing a  gale.  Not  a  Cape  Horn  gale,  perhaps,  but  a  good 
enough  gale,  and  the  water  was  lively  around  the  pier- 
heads. Several  vessels  could  be  seen  up  the  lake,  running 
down  to  the  harbor  for  shelter,  and  wallowing  in  the  sea. 
So  they  ran  the  yacht  far  up  into  the  harbor  between  the 
piers,  and  made  fast  as  far  away  from  the  lake  as  they 
could  get,  to  avoid  being  fouled  by  incoming  vessels,  and 
to  escape  the  heavy  swell  that  found  its  way  in  from  out- 
side. An  hour  after  the  sailing  vessels  had  made  the  port 
the  mail-line  steamer  Eleusinian  came  yawing  in,  with 
some  of  her  windows  in  bad  shape,  and  glad  to  get  in  out 
of  the  sea. 

Next  morning  it  was  blowing  harder  than  ever.  Every- 
thing outside  the  cabins  was  disagreeable.  The  water 
they  floated  in  seemed  to  be  principally  mud,  and  on  land 
the  mud  seemed  principally  water.  Some  of  the  advent- 
urous waded  through  the  mire  to  see  the  works  for  smelt- 
ing iron  in  the  neighborhood.  But  the  only  thing  re- 
sembling fun  outside  the  boat  was  trying  to  walk  on  the 
piers.  Two  fijurer.,  to  which  yellow  oilskin  suits  lent  their 
usual  grace,  would  support  a  third  figure,  clad  in  a  long 
waterproof,  resembling  a  sausage.  These  three  would 
make  a  dash  through  the  wind  and  seize  a  tall  post  or  a 
spile  for  mooring  vessels,  and  here  they  would  pause,  hold 
on,  and  recover  their  lost  breath.  Then,  slanting  into  the 
wind,  they  would  make  a  sort  of  tack,  partly  to  wind- 
ward, till  they  reached  the  next  spile,  and  so  on,  while 
occasionally  they  would  be  deluged  with  the  top  of  a 
13 


:3 


!   , 


f    •» 


'♦•      ,'  T  , 


(#11 


194 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


wave.  The  fun  of  this  consisted  in  the  endeavor  to  avoid 
being  blown  into  the  water.  Certainly  the  sausage  could 
not  have  gone  alone.  After  several  hours  in  the  cabin  the 
element  of  change  in  this  exercise  made  it  quite  a  pastime. 
It  cooled  the  blood  and  took  away  the  fidgets,  and,  on  re- 
turning, made  the  cabins  seem  a  pleasant  shelter  instead 
of  a  prison. 

So  far  there  had  been  no  chance  to  leave  the  harbor  for 
the  purpose  of  reaching  Toronto.  The  wind  was  dead  ahead 
from  that  quarter.  Young  Dusenall  was  watching  the 
weather  continually,  very  anxious  to  get  away  to  be  in  time 
for  the  yacht  race  there  on  the  7th  and  8th.  He  was  over 
at  the  steamboat  hobnobbing  with  the  captain  of  the  Eleusi- 
nian,  who  was  also  anxious  to  get  on  with  his  vessel.  What 
with  whisky  and  water,  nautical  magic,  and  one  thing  or 
another  between  the  two  of  them  they  got  the  wind  to 
go  down  suddenly  about  five  o'clock  that  e\„ning.  Char- 
Icy  came  back  in  high  good-humor.  The  captain  had 
offered  to  tow  the  Ideal  behind  the  steamer  to  Toronto, 
and  nothing  but  a  long,  rolling  sea,  with  no  wind  to  speak 
of,  could  be  noticed  outside. 

Jack  did  not  like  going  to  sea  hitched  up,  Mazeppa- 
like,  to  a  steamer,  and  he  had  misgivings  as  to  the  weath- 
er. The  leaden-colored  clouds,  banked  up  in  the  west, 
were  moving  slowly  down  the  lake  like  herded  elephants. 
They  did  not  yet  look  pacific,  and  he  feared  that  they 
would  make  another  stampede  before  the  night  was  over. 
He  declared  it  was  only  looking  for  another  place  to  blow 
from.  Charley  answered  that  the  race  came  off  on  the 
day  after  to-morrow,  and,  as  they  had  to  get  to  Toronto 
somehow,  why  not  behind  the  steamer.^  As  Jack  was 
unable  to  do  any  more  than  say  what  he  thought,  he  sug- 
gested "  that,  if  the  boat  must  go  out  in  this  sort  of  way 
during  bad  weather,  that  the  women  had  better  take  the 
train  home."     The  trip  in  the  yacht  promised  to  be  un- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


195 


pleasant,  but  when  Mrs.  t)usenall  considered  the  long, 
dusty,  and  hot  journey  around  the  western  end  of  the  lake 
she  decided  to  "stick  to  the  ship." 

At  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  they  were  flying  out  of 
port  behind  the  steamer  at  the  end  of  a  lotig  hawser.  A 
heavy  dead  swell  was  rolling  outside,  and  the  way  the 
Ideal  got  jerked  from  one  wave  to  another  boded  ill  for 
the  comfort  of  the  passage.  Charley  hung  on,  however, 
thinking  that  this  was  the  worst  of  it  and  that  the  sea 
would  go  down. 

The  night  grew  very  dark,  and  two  hours  afterward 
the  gale  commenced  again,  and  blew  harder  than  before 
from  the  same  quarter.  Every  time  they  plunged  hard 
into  a  wave  the  decks  would  be  swept  from  stem  to  stern, 
while  a  blinding  spray  covered  everything.  If  they  had 
cast  off  at  this  time  they  could  have  sailed  back  to  Char- 
lotte in  safety,  but  Charley  was  bound  to  see  Toronto,  and 
held  on. 

Suddenly,  in  the  wildness  of  the  night,  they  heard  a 
crack  of  breaking  timber,  and  the  next  moment  the  tall 
mast  whipped  back  toward  the  stern  like  a  bending  reed. 
A  few  anxious  moments  passed  before  those  aft  could  find 
out  what  had  happened.  In  the  darkness,  and  the  further 
obscurity  caused  by  the  flying  water,  the  bowsprit  had 
fouled  the  tow-line.  The  bowstays  had  at  once  parted 
and,  perhaps  assisted  by  the  recoil  of  the  mast,  the  bow- 
sprit had  snapped  off,  like  a  carrot,  close  to  the  stem. 

This  large  piece  of  timber  was  now  in  the  water,  acting 
like  a  battering-ram  against  the  starboard  bow,  with  the 
stowed  staysail,  and  all  the  head  gear,  attached  to  it. 
There  was  no  use  trying  to  clear  away  the  wreck  by  en- 
deavoring to  chop  through  all  the  wire  rigging,  chains, 
forestays,  bowsprit-shrouds,  bobstays,  and  running  gear, 
all  adrift  in  a  mass  that  would  have  taken  a  long  time  to 
cut  away  or  disentangle,  even  in  daylight  and  calm  water. 


•i' 


|i 


C 


> 


1^    ,./'r>»t         *" 


196 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


Besides  this,  one  could  not  see  his  hand  held  before  his 
face,  except  by  lantern-light,  and  such  was  the  unnatural 
pitching  of  the  yacht  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
stand  without  holding  on  to  something.  Charley,  who 
was  steering,  asked  of  one  of  the  English  hands,  who  was 
carefully  crawling  aft  to  tak  the  wheel,  "  How's  every- 
thing forward  ? "  To  Charley  a  mind  the  reply  seemed  to 
epitomize  things  as  the  man  touched  his  hat  and  answered 
respectfully,  "  Gone  to  'ell,  sir."  He  spat  on  the  watery 
deck,  as  he  said  this,  while  a  blast  of  wind  and  half  a  ton 
of  water  from  the  bows  swept  away  so  effectually  both  the 
remark  and  the  tobacco  juice  that  Mr.  Lemons  could  not 
help  absurdly  thinking  of  the  tears  of  Sterne's  recording 
angel.  The  sailor  was  very  much  disgusted  at  the  condi- 
tion of  things,  and  both  he  and  his  remark  were  so  free 
from  any  appearance  of  timidity  that  the  Hon.  M.  T.  Head 
felt  like  giving  him  five  dollars.  While  on  shore,  the  hon- 
orable gentleman  was  accustomed  to  emphasize  his  lan- 
guage, but,  in  the  present  crisis,  no  wild  horses  could  have 
dragged  from  him  a  questionable  word. 

Geoffrey's  long  arms  and  strength  came  in  well  that 
night.  At  the  first  crack  of  the  timber  he  slid  out  of  his 
oilskins  for  work,  and  his  was  one  of  those  cool  heads  that 
alone  are  of  use  at  such  a  time.  On  a  sailing  vessel  the 
first  effect  of  a  bad  accident  in  the  night-time  is  to  para- 
lyze thought.  The  danger  and  the  damage  are  at  first 
unknown.  The  blackness  of  the  night,  the  sounds  of 
things  smashing,  the  insecurity  of  foothold,  the  screaming 
of  the  wind,  and  the  tumbling  of  the  waters,  all  tend  to 
kill  that  energy  and  concentration  of  thought  which,  to 
be  useful,  must  rise  above  these  enervating  influences. 

Jack  had  had  more  experience  than  Geoffrey,  and  thus 
knew  better  what  to  do.  But  Geoffrey,  for  his  part,  was 
"all  there."  When  he  was  hanging  down  over  the  side, 
and  climbing  about  to  get  the  floating,  banging  mass  of 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTFAD. 


197 


wreckage  attached  to  the  throat-halyards,  the  tops  of  the 
waves  that  struck  him  were  unable  to  wash  him  away,  and 
when  he  had  succeeded  in  his  efforts,  the  wreckage  was 
hoisted  bodily  inboard. 

The  fellows  at  the  wheel  were  momentarily  expecting 
the  mast  to  snap  and  fall  backward  on  their  heads,  as 
there  was  now  no  forestay  on  it.  The  worst  fault  of  the 
sloop-rig  here  became  apparent.  Unlike  cutters,  sloops 
have  no  forestay  leading  from  the  masthead  down  to  the 
stem,  but  one  leading  only  to  the  outer  end  of  the  bow- 
sprit, and  when  the  bowsprit  carries  away,  as  it  frequently 
does,  the  mast  then  has  nothing  but  its  own  strength  to 
save  it  from  snapping  in  a  sudden  recoil. 

What  made  the  plunging  of  the  mast  worse  was  that 
the  lower-mast  backstays  had  both  carried  away  at  the 
deck,  as  also  had  the  topmast  backstays,  after  pulling  the 
head  off  the  housed  topmast.  All  this  heavy  wire  rigging, 
with  its  blocks,  immediately  became  lost  to  sight.  It  was 
streaming  out  aft  on  the  gale  from  the  masthead,  together 
with  every  other  line  that  had  a  chance  to  get  adrift.  If 
a  halyard  got  loose  from  its  belaying  pin  that  night  it  was 
not  seen  again.  It  said  good-by  to  the  deck  and  went  to 
join  the  flying  mass  overhead,  that  afterward  by  degrees 
wound  itself  round  and  round  the  topping-lifts  and  peak- 
halyards,  effectually  preventing  the  hoisting  of  the  main- 
sail. The  long  and  heavy  main-boom,  which  had  long 
since  kicked  its  supporting  crutch  overboard,  was  now 
lowered  down  to  rest  on  the  cabin-top,  so  as  to  take  the 
weight  off  the  mast ;  and  while  the  end  of  it  dragged  in 
the  boiling  caldron  behind  the  counter,  the  middle  part 
of  it  rose  and  fell  with  every  pitch,  in  spite  of  endeavors  to 
lash  it  down,  until  it  seemed  that  the  cabin-top  would  cer- 
tainly give  way.  Had  the  top  caved  in,  the  chances  of 
swamping  were  good. 

Their  power  to  sail  by  means  of  the  canvas  was  now 


s|#ii 


^,sM' 


wn^ 


198 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


■-■li  .•'^' 


I 


iw-* 


virtually  gone.  Nothing  was  left  for  them  but  to  follow 
the  huge  "  smoke-grinding  "  mass  that  yawed  and  pitched  in 
front  of  them.  One  or  two  men  were  kept  at  the  stern  of 
the  steamer  during  this  part  of  the  night,  to  report  any  sig- 
nals of  distress  and  to  aid  the  yacht's  steering  by  showing 
bright  lights.  Near  to  these  bright  lights  the  figure  of  the 
captain  could  be  seen  from  time  to  time  through  the  night, 
anxiously  watching  the  lights  on  the  yacht,  which  told  him 
that  she  still  survived.  Sometimes  he  was  apparently  call- 
ing out  to  those  on  the  yacht,  but  of  course  no  sound 
could  be  heard. 

The  ladies  were  in  their  cabins  all  this  time,  sorry 
enough  that  they  had  not  taken  the  railway  home. 

When  the  mast  was  stayed  forward,  by  setting  up  the 
staysail-halyards,  etc.,  at  the  stem,  there  was  nothing  to  do 
on  deck  but  steer  and  keep  watch,  and  as  nearly  every- 
thing had  been  carried  away  except  the  whale  boat,  Geof- 
frey went  below  for  dry  clothes  and,  feeling  tired  with  his 
hard  work,  took  a  nap  in  one  of  the  bunks  in  the  after- 
cabin.  As  the  sailors  say,  he  "  turned  in  all  standing  " — 
that  is,  with  his  clothes  on. 

The  other  men  remained  on  deck.  Most  of  them  were 
drenched  to  the  skin  and  were  becoming  gradually  colder 
in  the  driving  spray  and  heavy  swashes  of  solid  wave  that 
swept  the  decks  with  dock-like  regularity.  They  thought 
it  better  to  remain  where  they  could  at  least  swim  for  a 
while  if  the  yacht  went  down,  and  they  preferred  exposure 
to  the  idea  of  being  drowned  like  rats  in  the  cabin. 

After  some  time  Geoffrey  awoke,  feeling  that  a  soft 
warm  hand  was  being  passed  around  his  chin.  He  knew 
it  was  Margaret  before  he  got  his  eyes  open.  He  peered 
at  her  for  a  moment  without  raising  his  head.  She  was 
sitting  on  the  seat  outside,  looking  very  despairing. 

"  Oh,  Geoffrey,"  she  said,  "  I  think  ve  are  going  to  the 
bottom." 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


199 


Geoffrey  listened,  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  heard  both 
pumps  clanging  outside.  Margaret  thought  he  was  going 
off  to  sleep  again.  She  was  very  frightened,  and  the  fear 
seemed  to  draw  her  toward  Geoffrey  all  the  more  for  pro- 
tection. She  put  her  hand  half  around  his  neck  and  urged 
him  to  wake  up. 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  go  on  sleeping  at  such  a  time  .-* 
Do  wake  up,  dear  Geoffrey.  I  tell  you  the  yacht  is  sink- 
ing.    We  are  all  going  to  the  bottom.     Do  get  up  ! 

Geoffrey  was  perfectly  wide  awake,  but  this  was  even 
pleasanter  than  being  waked  by  music,  and  her  hand  on 
his  chin  seemed  like  a  caress.  With  his  eyes  shut,  he  re- 
proached her  sleepily  :  "  No,  no,  don't  make  me  get  up. 
I  like  it.     I  like  going  to  the  bottom." 

Margaret  smiled  through  her  fears.  "  But,  Geoffrey, 
do  look  here  !  The  water  has  risen  up  over  the  cabin 
floor." 

He  got  up  then.  Certainly,  things  did  seem  a  little  threat- 
ening. A  couple  of  corks  were  dancing  about  in  the  water 
upon  the  carpet  quite  merrily.  This  meant  a  good  deal. 
He  heard  that  peculiar  sound  of  rushing  water  inside  the 
boat  which  can  be  easily  recognized  when  once  heard. 
Above  the  howling  of  wind  and  swash  of  waves,  both 
pumps  coild  be  heard  working  for  all  they  were  worth. 
The  vessel  was  pitching  terribly,  mercilessly  dragged  as 
she  was  from  one  wave  to  another,  without  having  time  to 
ride  them. 

Geoffrey  thought  the  time  for  bailing  with  the  pails 
might  be  deferred  for  a  while.  Without  Margaret's  knowl- 
edge he  stuck  a  pen-knife  into  the  woodwork  nei-i  the  floor 
to  define  high-water  mark,  and  thus  detect  any  increase  in 
the  leakage  over  the  pumps.  Then  he  devoted  some  time 
toward  endeavoring  to  calm  Margaret's  fears,  chiefly  by 
exhibiting  a  masterly  inaction  in  regard  to  the  leak  and 
in  searching  about  for  a  lost  pipe.     By  the  time  he  had 


.0 

3 


(f . 


,'f«l  ll 


200 


GEOFFREY   HAxMPSTEAD. 


■m. 


found  it  and  was  enjoying  a  quiet  smoke,  reclining  on  the 
cushions  to  make  the  motion  seem  easier,  her  fears  began 
to  weaken.  She  did  not  at  all  object  to  the  smoke  of 
pipes,  and  Geoffrey's  comfort  became  contagious.  Al- 
though the  clanging  of  the  pumps  outside  recalled  stories 
of  shipwreck,  she  was,  on  the  other  hand,  more  influenced 
by  the  easy-going  indifference  that  he  assumed.  Twenty 
minutes  passed  in  this  v  ay,  and  then  she  felt  sure  that 
the  danger  was  not  so  great  as  she  had  thought.  Geof- 
frey in  the  mean  time  was  covertly  watching  his  penknife, 
that  marked  the  rise  or  fall  of  the  water  in  the  boat.  At 
the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  could  see,  from  where  he  lay, 
that  half  the  blade  of  the  knife  was  covered  with  water. 
So  he  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  and  said  he  would 
go  and  see  the  boys  on  deck,  and  that  Margaret  had  better 
go  and  comfort  the  others  in  the  ladies'  cabins,  and  tell 
them  it  was  all  right. 

When  Margaret  iiad  staggered  away,  Geoffrey's  man- 
ner was  not  that  of  one  satisfied  with  his  surroundings. 
He  ripped  up  the  carpet  and  the  planks  underneath  to  get 
at  the  well,  and  then  skipped  up  the  companion-way  in 
the  liveliest  manner.  When  on  deck,  he  made  out  Jack 
at  the  wheel. 

"  How's  the  well  ? "  Jack  cried,  in  the  wind.  "  Did 
you  sound  it  ? " 

Geoffrey  had  to  roar  to  make  himself  heard  above  the 
gale  and  noise  of  waters. 

"  Get  your  buckets  ! "  he  said ;  and  Jack  passed  his 
order  forward  by  a  messenger,  who  crawled  along  by  the 
main-boom  carefully,  lest  he  should  go  overboard  in  the 
pitching. 

**  Why,  the  pumps  were  gaining  on  the  leak  a  while 
ago !  "  Jack  said  to  Geoffrey.  *'  Did  you  examine  the 
well?"    . 

"  There  is  no  well  left  that  I  could  see.     It's  all  a  lake 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


20 1 


on  the  cabin  floor.  The  leak  gained  on  the  pumps  an 
inch  in  half  an  hour !  I  waited  and  watched  to  make 
sure,  and  to  quiet  the  women." 

"  Then  it  is  only  a  question  of  time,"  said  Jack.  **  The 
buckets  and  pumps  won't  keep  her  afloat  long.  She  is 
working  the  caulking  out  of  her  seams,  and  that  will  get 
worse  every  moment." 

There  were  no  loiterers  on  board  after  that.  They  all 
'*  turned  to  "  and  worked  like  machines.  Even  the  steward 
and  cook  were  on  deck  to  take  their  trick  at  the  pumps. 
Five  men  in  soaking  trousers  and  shirts  worked  five 
buckets  in  the  cabin,  heaving  the  water  out  of  the  com- 
panion-way. Of  these  five,  some  dropped  out  from  time 
to  time  exhausted,  but  the  others  relieved  them,  and 
so  kept  the  five  buckets  going  as  fast  ?s  they  could  be 
worked.  Some  fell  deadly  sick  with  the  heat,  hard  work, 
and  terrible  pitching  and  driving  motion  of  the  boat,  but 
nobody  said  a  word.  If  a  man  fell  sick,  he  had  something 
else  to  think  of  than  his  comfort,  and  he  staggered  around 
as  well  as  he  could.  From  the  companion-way  to  the  well, 
and  from  the  well  to  the  companion-way,  for  two  hours 
more  they  kept  up  the  incessant  toil.  At  first  some  had 
attempted  to  be  pleasant  by  saying  it  was  easy  to  get  water 
enough  for  the  whisky,  and  by  making  other  light  remarks. 
But  now  it  was  changed.  They  said  nothing  on  the  ex- 
hausting and  dreary  round,  but  worked  with  their  teeth 
clinched — while  the  sweat  poured  off  them  as  if  they,  too, 
had  started  every  seam  and  were  leaking  out  their  very 
lives. 

Still  the  pitiless  great  mass  of  a  steamer  in  front  of  the 
yacht  plunged  and  yawed  and  dragged  them  without  mercy 
through  the  black  waters,  where  a  huge  surge  could  now 
be  occasionally  discerned  sweeping  its  foaming  crest  past 
the  little  yacht,  which  was  gradually  succumbing  to  the 
wild  forces  about  it. 


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202 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


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Margaret  was  back  again  in  the  cabin  now.  She  had 
wedged  herself  in,  with  her  back  against  the  bunks,  and  one 
foot  up  against  the  table  as  a  prop  to  keep  her  in  position. 
In  one  hand  she  held  a  bottle  of  brandy  and  in  the  other 
a  glass.  And  when  a  man  fell  out  sick  and  exhausted  she 
attended  to  him.  There  was  no  water  asked  for.  They 
took  the  brandy  "  neat."  She  had  succeeded  in  quieting 
the  other  women,  and  as  they  could  not  hear  the  bailing 
in  the  after-cabin  they  were  in  happy  ignorance  of  the 
worst.  Whatever  fears  she  had  had  when  the  knowledge 
of  dangei  first  came  to  her,  she  showed  no  sign  of  them 
now — but  only  a  compassion  for  the  exhausted  workers 
that  heartened  them  up  and  did  them  good. 

A  third  hour  had  nearly  expired  since  they  began  to 
use  the  buckets,  and  Margaret  for  a  long  time  hud  been 
watching  the  water,  in  which  the  bailers  worked,  gradually 
creeping  up  over  their  feet  as  they  spent  themselves  on 
a  dreary  round,  to  which  the  toil  of  Sisyphus  was  satisfac- 
tory. The  water  was  rising  steadily  in  spite  of  their  best 
efforts  to  keep  the  boat  afloat.  Margaret  had  quietly  made 
up  her  mind  that  they  would  never  see  the  land  again. 
There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  chance  left,  and  she  was 
going,  as  men  say,  to  "  die  game."  Her  courage  and 
cheering  words  inspired  the  others  to  endless  exertions. 
She  was  like  a  big  sister  to  them  all.  At  times  she  was 
hilarious  and  almost  boisterous,  and  when  she  waved  the 
bottle  in  the  air  and  declared  that  there  was  no  Scott  Act 
on  board,  her  conduct  can  not  be  defended.  Maurice 
Rankin  tried  to  say  he  wished  they  could  get  a  Scott  Act 
on  the  water,  but  the  remark  seemed  to  lack  intrinsic  en- 
ergy, and  he  failed  from  exhaustion  to  utter  it. 

Another  half-hour  passed,  and  while  the  men  trudged 
through  the  ever-deepening  water  Margaret  experienced 
new  thoughts  whenever  she  gazed  at  Geoffrey,  who  had 
worked  almost  incessantly.  She  looked  at  the  knotted  cords 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


203 


on  his  arms  and  on  his  forehead,  at  the  long  tenacious  jaw 
set  as  she  had  seen  it  in  the  hurdle  race,  and  she  knew 
from  the  swelling  nostril  and  glittering  eye  that  the  idea 
of  defeat  in  this  battle  with  the  waters  was  one  which  he 
spurned  from  him.  His  clothes  were  dripping  with  water. 
The  neck-button  of  his  shirt  had  carried  away,  his  trousers 
were  rolled  up  at  the  bottom,  and  his  face  perspired  freely 
with  the  extraordinary  strain,  and  yet  in  spite  of  his  ap- 
pearance she  felt  as  if  she  had  never  cared  for  him  so 
much  as  when  she  now  saw  him.  On  through  the  night 
she  sat  there  doing  her  woman's  part  beside  those  who 
fought  with  the  water  for  their  lives.  She  saw  the  treach- 
erous enemy  gaining  on  them  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts, 
and  in  her  heart  felt  fully  convinced  that  she  could  not 
have  more  than  two  hours  to  live.  The  hot  steam  from 
men  working  frantically  filled  the  cabin,  the  weaker  ones 
grew  ill  before  her,  and  she  looked  after  them  without 
blenching.  Hers  was  no  place  for  a  toy  woman.  She  was 
there  to  help  all  those  about  to  die  ;  and  to  do  this  rightly, 
to  force  back  her  own  nausea,  and  face  anxiety  and  death 
with  a  smile. 

As  for  Geoffrey,  life  seemed  sweet  to  him  that  night. 
For  him,  it  was  Margaret  or — nothing.  To  him,  this  fac- 
ing of  death  did  just  one  thing.  It  raised  the  tiger  in 
him.  He  had  what  Shakespeare  and  prize-fighters  call 
*'  gall,"  that  indomitable  courage  which  women  worship 
hereditarily,  although  better  kinds  of  courage  may  exist. 

Another  long  half-hour  passed,  and  then  Maurice  fell 
over  his  bucket,  keel-up.  He  had  fainted  from  exhaus- 
tion, and  was  dosed  by  Margaret  in  the  usual  way,  and 
after  this  he  was  set  on  his  pins  and  sent  on  deck  for  the 
lighter  work  at  the  pumps.  After  that,  the  paid  hands, 
having  in  some  way  purloined  too  much  whisky,  mutinied, 
and  said  they  would  be  blanketty-blanketted  if  they  would 
sling  another  bucket 


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.:> 


204 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


The  others  went  on  as  steadily  as  before,  while  the 
crew  went  forward  to  wait  sulkily  for  the  end. 

Jack  and  Charley  then  consulted  as  to  what  was  best 
to  be  done.  To  hold  on  in  this  way  meant  going  to  the 
bottom,  without  a  shadow  of  doubt.  They  had  tried  to 
signal  to  the  steamer,  to  get  her  to  slow  up  and  take  all 
hands  on  board.  But  the  watchers  at  the  stern  of  the 
steamer  had  been  taken  off  to  work  at  the  steamer's 
pumps ;  for,  as  was  afterward  found,  she  also  was  leaking 
badly  and  in  a  dangerous  condition. 

Ought  they  to  cut  the  towline,  throw  out  the  inside 
ballast,  and  cut  away  the  mast  to  ease  the  straining  at  the 
seams  ?  The  wooden  hull,  minus  the  inside  ballast,  might 
float  in  spite  of  the  lead  on  the  keel,  which  was  not  very 
heavy,  and  in  this  way  they  might  drift  about  until  picked 
up  the  next  day.  But  the  ballast  was  covered  with  water. 
They  could  not  get  it  out  in  time  to  save  her.  Yet  the 
seas  seemed  somewhat  lighter  than  they  had  been.  Would 
not  the  boat  leak  less  while  proceeding  in  an  ordinary 
way,  instead  of  being  dragged  from  wave  to  wave  ?  No 
doubt  it  would,  but  was  it  safe  to  let  the  steamer  leave 
them  ?  Ought  they  to  cut  the  towline,  get  up  a  bit  of  a 
sail,  and  endeavor  to  make  the  north  shore  of  the  lake  ? 

While  duly  weighing  these  things,  Jack  was  making  a 
rough  calculation  in  his  head,  as  he  took  a  look  at  the 
clock.  Then  he  walked  forward,  took  a  halyard  in  his 
hands,  and  embracing  the  plunging  mast  with  his  legs,  he 
swarmed  up  about  twenty  feet  from  the  deck.  Then,  after 
a  long  look,  he  suddenly  slid  down  again,  and  running  aft 
he  called  to  the  others,  while  he  pointed  over  the  bows. 

"  Toronto  Light,  ahoy  !  " 

"  Holy  sailor  !  "  cried  Charley  in  delight.  "  Are  you 
sure  of  it?" 

"  Betcherlife  !  "  said  Jack.  "  Can't  fool  me  on  Toronto 
Light.     Go  and  see  for  yourself." 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


205 


Charley  climbed  up  and  took  a  look.  Then  he  went 
down  into  the  forecastle  and  told  the  men  they  would  get 
no  pay  for  the  trip  if  they  did  not  help  to  bail  the  boat. 

Seeing  that  not  only  life  but  good  pay  awaited  them, 
they  turned  to  again  and  helped  to  keep  the  ship  afloat. 

In  a  few  minutes  more  Jack  called  to  Margaret  lo 
come  on  deck.  When  she  had  ascended,  she  sat  on  the 
dripping  cabin-top  and  watched  a  changing  scene,  impos- 
sible to  forget.  Soon  after  she  appeared,  there  came  a 
flicker  in  the  air,  as  short  as  the  pulling  of  a  trigger,  and 
all  at  once  she  peiceived  that  she  began  dimly  to  see  the 
waves  and  the  pitching  boat.  It  was  like  a  revelation, 
like  an  experience  of  Dante's  Virgil,  to  see  at  last  some  of 
that  hell  of  waters  in  which  they  had  struggled  so  long  for 
existence. 

As  the  first  beginning  of  weird  light,  coming  apparently 
from  nowhere,  began  to  spread  over  the  weary  waste  of 
heaving,  tumbling,  merciless  waters  and  to  dilute  the  ink 
of  the  night,  as  if  with  only  a  memory  of  day,  a  momentary 
chill  went  through  Margaret,  as  she  began  to  realize  a  small 
part  of  what  they  had  come  through.  But  as  the  ragged 
sky  in  the  east  paled  faintly,  rather  than  warmed,  with  an 
attempt  at  cheerfulness,  like  the  tired  smile  of  a  dying  man, 
it  sufficed,  although  so  deficient  in  warmth,  to  cheer  her 
heart.  The  calm  certainty  of  an  almost  immediate  death 
that  had  settled  like  a  pall  upon  her  was  dispelled  by  rays 
of  hope  that  seemed  to  be  identical  with  the  invading  rays 
of  light.  "  Hope  comes  from  the  ea»i,"  she  thought,  as  a 
ray  from  that  quarter  made  the  atmosphere  take  another 
jump  toward  day,  and  as  she  fell  into  a  tired  reverie  she 
remembered,  with  a  heart  forced  toward  thanksgiving, 
those  other  early  glad  tidings  from  the  East.  Worn  out, 
she  yielded  to  early  emotions,  and  thanked  God  for  her 
deliverance.  She  arose  and  went  carefully  along  the  deck, 
holding  to  the  wet  boom,  until  she  reached  the  mast,  where 


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206 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


she  stopped  and  gazed  at  the  black  mass  of  the  great 
steamer  still  plunging  and  yawing  and  swinging  through 
the  waters,  with  its  lights  looking  yellow  in  the  pale  glim- 
mer of  dawn.  After  viewing  the  disorder  on  decks  she 
could  form  an  idea  of  the  work  the  men  had  had  during 
the  darkness  of  the  night. 

But,  oh,  what  a  broken-nosed  nightmare  of  a  yacht  it 
was,  in  the  dreary  morning  light,  with  all  the  dripping 
black-looking  heap  of  wreckage  piled  over  the  bows,  the 
mast  pitching  back  toward  the  stern  with  a  tangled  mass 
of  everything  imaginable  wound  in  a  huge  plait  down  the 
lifts.  In  this  draggle-tailed  thing,  with  a  boom  lying  on 
deck  and  hanging  over  the  counter  and  its  canvas  trailing 
in  the  water,  Margaret  could  not  recognize  the  peerless 
swan  that  a  short  time  ago  poised  itself  upon  its  pinions 
and  swept  so  majestically  out  of  Toronto  Bay. 

The  water,  at  every  mile  traversed,  now  grew  calmer 
as  the  gale  came  partly  off  the  land.  Soon  the  pitching 
ended  altogether.  The  opened  seams  ceased  to  smile  so 
invitingly  to  the  death  that  lurks  under  every  boat's  keel. 
The  pumps  and  buckets  had  begun  to  gain  upon  the 
water  in  the  cabin,  and  by  the  time  they  had  swept  round 
the  lighthouse  and  reached  the  wharf  the  flooring  had 
been  replaced,  while  the  pumps  were  still  clanging  at  in- 
tervals. 

When  they  made  fast  to  the  dock  a  drawn  and  hag- 
gard group  of  men — a  drooping,  speechless,  and  even  ragged 
group  of  men — allowed  themselves  to  sleep.  It  did  not 
matter  where  or  how  they  slept.  They  just  dropped  any- 
where ;  and  for  five  hours  Nature  had  all  she  could  do  to 
restore  these  men  to  a  semblance  of  themselves. 

NoTE.--If  Captain  Estes,  of  the  Mail  Line  Steamer  Abyssinian, 
should  ever  read  this  chapter  he  will  know  a  part  of  what  took  place 
at  the  other  end  of  the  hawser  on  the  night  of  September  5,  1872. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


207 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

What  slender  youth,  bedewed  with  liquid  odors, 
Courts  thee  on  roses  in  some  pleasant  cave, 

Pyrrha  ?    For  whom  bindest  thou 

In  wreaths  thy  golden  hair, 
Plain  in  its  neatness  ?    Oh,  how  oft  shall  he 
On  faith,  and  changed  gods,  complain. 
To  whom  thou  untried  seemest  fair  ? 

Horace,  Lib,  i,  Ode  5. 

A  FINE  spring  afternoon.  A  dark-eyed,  well-dressed 
young  lady  with  an  attractive  figure  descends  from  a 
street  car  near  the  Don  Bridge.  She  crosses  the  bridge 
leisurely  and  proceeds  eastward  along  the  Kingston  Road 
toward  Scarborough.  Whatever  her  destination  may  be, 
the  time  at  which  she  arrives  is  evidently  of  no  conse- 
quence. She  does  "belong"  down  Kingston  Roadway. 
The  street  car  dropped  her  there,  and  one  may  come  a 
long  way  for  ten  cents  on  street  cars.  From  the  uninter- 
ested way  in  which  she  views  the  semi-rural  surroundings 
one  can  see  that  she  is  carelessly  unfamiliar  with  the 
region. 

A  fine  horse,  with  his  glossy  coat  and  harness  shining 
in  the  sun,  comes  along  behind  her  at  a  rate  that  would 
not  be  justified  in  a  crowded  thoroughfare.  Behind  the 
horse  a  stylish  dog-cart  bowls  along  with  its  plate-glass 
lamps  also  shining  in  the  sun.  Between  this  spot  and  the 
city  of  Kingston  there  is  no  man  on  the  road  handsomer 
than  he  who  drives  the  dog-cart.  The  lady  looks  pleased 
as  she  hears  the  trap  coming  along ;  a  flush  rises  to  her 
cheeks  and  makes  her  eyes  still  brighter.  When  the  horse 
trots  over  the  sod  and  stops  beside  the  sidewalk  her  sur- 
prise is  so  small  that  she  does  not  even  scream.  On  the 
contrary,  she  proceeds,  without  speaking,  to  climb  into  the 


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208 


GEOFFREY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


vehicle  with  an  expression  on  her  face  in  which  alarm  has 
no  place. 

In  some  analogy  with  that  mysterious  law  which  rules 
that  an  elephant  shall  not  climb  a  tree,  symmetrical  peo- 
ple in  fashionable  dresses,  whose  lines  tend  somewhat  to- 
ward convexity,  do  not  climb  into  a  high  dog-cart  with 
that  ease  which  may  compensate  others  for  being  long 
and  lanky.  A  middle-aged  elder  of  the  Established  Kirk 
stands  on  his  doorstep  directly  opposite  and  looks  pious. 
He  says  this  is  a  meeting  not  of  chance  but  of  design, 
and  reproof  is  showa  upon  his  face.  The  lady  wears 
Parisian  boots,  and  the  general  expression  of  the  middle- 
aged  elder  is  severe  except  where  the  eyes  suggest  weak- 
ness unlocked  for  in  a  face  of  such  high  moral  pitch. 
Once  in,  the  young  lady  settles  herself  comfortably  and 
wraps  about  her  dress  the  embroidered  dust-linen  as  if 
she  were  well  accustomed  to  the  situation.  They  drive 
off,  and  the  middle-aged  elder  shakes  his  head  after  them 
and  says  with  renewed  personal  conviction  that  the  world 
is  not  what  it  ought  to  be. 

The  road  is  soft  and  smooth,  and  the  horse  saws  his 
head  up  and  down  as  he  steps  out  at  a  pace  that  makes  him 
feel  pleasantly  disposed  toward  country  roads  and  inclined 
to  travel  faster  than  a  gentlemanly,  civilized,  by-law-regu- 
lated horse  should  desire.  The  young  lady  lays  aside  her 
parasol,  which  is  remarkable — a  gay  toy — and  takes  up  a 
black  silk  umbrella  which  is  not  remarkable  but  service- 
able. The  good-looking  man  pulls  out  of  his  pocket  a 
large  brown  veil  rolled  up  in  paper,  and  she  of  the  Paris- 
ian boots  ties  it  quickly  around  a  little  skull-cap  sort  of 
bonnet  of  black  beads  and  lace.  The  veil  is  thrown 
around  in  such  a  way  that  the  folds  of  it  can  be  pulled 
down  over  her  face  in  an  instant.  Here,  also,  the  lady 
shows  a  deftness  in  assuming  this  head- gear  that  argues 
prior  practice,  and  when  this  is  done  she  lays  her  hand 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


209 


on  the  handsome  man's  arm  and  looks  up  at  him  radiant- 
ly, while  the  silk  umbrella  shuts  out  a  couple  of  farmer's 
wives. 

"Doesn't  it  make  me  look  hideous?  "  she  says,  refer- 
ring to  the  veil. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  worse  than  ever,"  says  the  handsome 
man.  His  face  is  a  mixture  of  careless  good-nature  and 
quiet  devil  -  may  -  care  recklessness.  Perhaps  there  are 
women  who  never  make  men  look  spiritual.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  that  the  umbrella  hides  his  disregard  for  appear- 
ances on  the  public  street  and  that  the  farmer's  wives  in 
the  neighborhood  are  not  too  observant. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  Geoffrey,  do  behave  better  on  the 
highway  !     What  will  those  women  think  ? " 

"Their  curiosity  will  gnaw  them  cruelly,  I  fear.  They 
are  looking  after  us  yet.     I  can  see  them." 

'*  Well,  it  is  not  fair  to  me  to  go  on  like  that ;  besides 
I  am  terrified  all  the  time  lest  the  people  may  find  out  who 
it  is  that  wears  the  brown  veil  about  the  country.  I  have 
heard  four  or  five  girls  speaking  about  it.  It's  the  talk  of 
the  town." 

"  No  fear  about  that,  Nina.  I  don't  think  your  name 
was  ever  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  veil,  but,  in 
case  it  might  be,  I  drove  out  Helen  Broadwood  and  Janet 
Carruthers  lately,  and,  in  view  of  the  dust  flying,  I  per- 
suaded them  to  wear  the  brown  veil.  We  drove  all  over 
the  city  and  down  King  Street  several  times.  So  now 
the  brown  veil  is  divided  between  the  two  of  them.  It 
was  not  much  trouble  to  devote  a  little  time  to  this  ob- 
ject, and  besides,  you  know,  the  old  people  give  excellent 
dinners." 

"  That  was  nice  of  you  to  put  it  off  on  those  girls  and 

to  take  so  much  trouble  for  me,  but  it  can't  last,  Geoffrey, 

dear.     We  are  sure  to  be  recognized  some  day.     Helen 

and  Janet  will  both  say  they  were  not  on  the  Indian  road 

14 


« 


\t 


:  ^;rr'7 


210 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


d. 


tX'Y 


near  the  Humber  the  day  we  met  the  Joyces's  wagonette, 
and  those  girls  are  so  stupid  that  people  will  believe  them ; 
and  that  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  when  Millicent  Hart  rode 
behind  us  purposely  to  find  out  who  I  was.  That  was  a 
mean  thing  of  her  to  do,  but  I  paid  her  off.  I  met  her  at 
Judge  Lovell's  the  other  night.  It  was  a  terrible  party, 
but  I  enjoyed  it.  I  knew  she  expected  to  bring  things  to 
a  climax  with  Mr.  Grover  ;  she's  /o//e  about  that  man.  I 
monopolized  him  the  whole  evening — in  fact  he  came 
within  an  ace  of  proposing.  Gracious,  how  that  girl 
hates  me  now  !  " 

"  I  would  not  try  paying  her  off  too  much,  or  she 
will  think  you  have  a  strong  reason  for  doing  so,"  said 
Geoffrey.  "  After  all,  her  curiosity  did  her  no  good.  You 
managed  the  umbrella  to  a  charm." 

"  The  best  thing  you  could  do  would  be  to  have  a 
linen  duster  for  me  to  wear — such  as  the  American  women 
travel  in  ;  then,  as  the  veil  covered  my  head,  I  could 
discard  the  umbrella,  and  they  would  not  recognize  my 
clothes." 

In  this  way  they  rattled  down  to  Scarborough,  and  then 
Geoffrey  turned  off  the  highway  through  a  gate  and  drove 
across  a  lot  of  wild  land  covered  with  brushwood  until 
he  struck  a  sort  of  road  through  the  forest  which  had 
been  chopped  out  for  the  purpose  of  hauling  cordwood  in 
the  winter.  He  followed  this  slowly,  for  it  was  rough 
wheeling.  Then  he  stopped,  tied  the  horse,  and  Nina 
and  he  sauntered  off  through  the  woods  until  they  reached 
the  edge  of  the  high  cliffs  overlooking  the  lake.  This 
spot  escaped  even  picnic  parties,  for  it  was  almost  inac- 
cessible except  by  the  newly  cnt  and  unknown  road. 
Solitude  reigned  where  the  finest  view  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Toronto  could  be  had.  They  could  look  along 
the  narrow  cliffs  eastward  as  far  as  Raby  Head.  At  their 
feet — perhaps  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  down — the  blue- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


211 


green  y/aves  lapped  the  shore  in  the  afternoon  breeze,  and 
on  the  horizon,  across  the  thirty  or  forty  miles  of  fresh 
water,  the  south  shore  of  the  lake  could  be  dimly  seen  in 
a  summer  haze. 

The  winter  had  come  and  gone  since  we  saw  our 
friends  last,  and  the  early  spring  was  delicious  in  the 
warmth  that  hurried  all  nature  into  a  promise  of  ma- 
turity. Not  much  of  importance  had  happened  to  any  of 
them  since  we  last  saw  thern.  Jack  was  as  devoted  as 
ever,  and  Nina  was  not.  She  tried  to  do  what  she  could 
in  the  way  of  being  pleasant  to  Jack,  and  she  went  on 
with  the  affair  partly  because  she  had  not  sufficient  hard- 
ness of  heart  to  break  it  off,  and  chiefly  because  Geoffrey 
told  her  n^t  to  do  so.  He  preferred  that  she  should  re- 
main, in  a  nondescript  way,  engaged  to  Jack. 

Hampstead  generally  dined  with  the  Mackintoshes  on 
Sunday,  and  called  in  the  evening  once  or  twice  during 
the  week.  He  also  took  Margaret  for  drives  in  the  after- 
noon—generally about  the  town.  When  this  happened  a 
boy  in  buttons  sat  behind  them  and  held  the  horse  when 
they  descended  to  make  calls  together  on  Margaret's 
friends.  This  was  pleasant  for  both  of  them,  and  a  be- 
ginning of  the  quiet  domestic  life  which,  after  marriage, 
Geoffrey  intended  to  confine  himself  to,  and  he  won  good 
opinions  among  Margaret's  friends  from  the  cheerful, 
pleasant,  domesticated  manner  he  had  with  him  when 
they  dropped  in  together,  in  an  off-hand,  "  engaged  "  sort 
of  way  to  make  informal  calls.  And  so  far  as  Margaret 
could  know  he  seemed  in  every  way  entitled  to  the  favor- 
able opinions  he  created.  All  his  better,  kinder  nature 
was  present  at  these  times,  and  no  one  could  make  him- 
self more  agreeable  when  he  was,  as  he  said  of  himself, 
"building  up  a  moral  monument  more  lasting  than  brass." 

But  Geoffrey  had  his  "  days  off,"  and  then  he  was  dif- 
ferent.    He  smiled  as  he  thought  that   in  cultivating  a 


3' 


212 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


x: 


■a». 


^ 


J 


1^    %t^. 


mm 


h  ^  '• .. 


high  moral  tone  it  was  well  not  to  overdo  the  thing  at 
first ;  that  two  days  out  of  the  week  would  suffice  to  keep 
him  socially  in  the  traces.     He   thought  his  "  off  "  days 
frequently  made  him  prize   Margaret  all  the  more  when 
he  could  turn  with  some  relief  toward  the  one  who  em- 
bodied all  that  his  imagination  could  picture  in  the  way 
of  excellence.     He  despised  himself  and  was  complacent 
with  himself  alternately,  with  a  regularity  in  his  incon- 
sistencies which  was  the  only  way  (he  would  say,  smiling) 
that  he  could  call  himself  consistent.     If  necessary,  he 
would  have  admitted  that  he  was  bad ;  but  to  himself  he 
was  fond  of  saying  that  he  never  tried  to  conceal  from 
himsf^lf  when  he  was  doing  wrong  ;  and,  among  men,  he 
despised  the  many  "  Bulstrodes  "  of  existence  who  succeed 
in  deceiving  themselves  by  falsities.     He  said  that  this 
openness  with  self  seemed  to  have  something  partly  re- 
deeming about  it;  perhaps  only  by  comparison — that  it 
possibly  ranked  among  the  uncatalogued  virtues,  marked 
with  a  large  note  of  interrogation.    He  thought  there  were 
few  brave  enough  to  be  quite  honest  with  themselves,  and 
that  there  was  always  a  chance  for  a  man  who  remained 
so  ;  that  the  hopeless  ones  were  chiefly  those  who,  with  or 
without  vice,  have  become  liars  to  themselves ;  who,  by 
mingling  uncontrolled  weakness  and  professed  religion, 
have  lost  the  power  to  properly  adjust  themselves. 

This  day  of  the  drive  to  Scarborough  was  one  of  his 
"off"  days.  He  found  a  piquancy  in  these  trips  with 
him,  because  so  many  talked  about  her  beauty  ;  and,  as 
the  majority  of  men  do  not  have  very  high  ideals  concern- 
ing feminine  beauty,  Nina  was  well  adapted  for  extensive 
conquest.  No  doubt  she  was  very  attractive,  quite  dazzling 
sometimes.  She  was  partly  of  the  French  type,  perfect  in 
its  way,  but  not  the  highest  type  ;  she  was  lady-like  in 
her  appearance,  yet  with  the  slightest  soupfon  of  the  nurse- 
girl.     It  amused  him  to  hear  men  discussing,  even  squab- 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


213 


bling  about  her,  especially  after  he  had  come  from  a  trip 
with  the  brown  veil.  If  men  had  been  more  sober  in  the 
way  they  regarded  her,  if  her  costumes  had  been  less  be- 
witching, he  soon  would  have  become  tired.  But  these 
incentives  made  him  pleased  with  his  position,  and  he 
was  wont  to  quote  the  illustrious  Emerson  in  saying  that 
"  greatly  as  he  rejoiced  in  the  victories  of  religion  and 
morality,  it  was  not  without  satisfaction  that  he  woke  up 
in  the  morning  and  found  that  the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  devil  still  held  their  own,  and  died  hard."  In  other 
words,  it  pleased  him  that  Nina  existed  to  give  life — for 
the  present — a  little  of  that  fillip  which  his  nature  seemed 
to  demand. 

"  What  is  a  wise  man  ?  Well,  sir,  as  times  go,  'tis  a 
man  who  knows  himself  to  be  a  fool,  and  hides  the  fact 
from  his  neighbor." 

This  was  the  only  text  upon  which  Geoff'rey  founded 
any  claim  to  wisdom. 

As  they  left  the  cliff  and  walked  slowly  back  through 
the  woods  Nina  was  leaning  on  his  arm,  and  the  happiness 
of  her  expression  showed  how  completely  she  could  forget 
the  duties  which  both  abandoned  in  order  to  meet  in  this 
way.  But  when  they  arrived  at  the  dog-cart  a  change 
came  over  her.  The  brown  veil  had  to  be  tied  on  again. 
At  many  other  times  she  had  done  this  placidly,  as  part 
of  the  masquerade.  But  to-day  she  was  not  inclined  to 
reason  carefully.  To-day  the  veil  was  a  badge  of  secrecy, 
a  reminder  of  underhand  dealings,  a  token  that  she  must 
ever  go  on  being  sly  and  double-faced  with  the  public, 
that  she  must  renounce  the  idea  of  ever  caring  for  Geoffrey 
in  any  open  and  acknowledged  way.  To  be  sure,  she  had 
accepted  this  situation  in  its  entirety  when  she  continued 
to  yield  to  her  own  wishes  by  being  so  much  with  an  en- 
gaged man.  But  to  be  reasonable  always,  is  uncommon. 
She  resisted  an   inclination  to  tear  the  veil  to  shreds. 


r 

« 

31 


214 


C.EOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


.,t.ftrmim 


;-(vi 


Something  told  her  that  exhibitions  of  temper  would  not 
be  very  well  received  by  her  companion.  No  matter  how 
she  treated  Jack,  was  she  not  honest  with  Geoffrey  ?  Did 
she  not  risk  her  good  name  for  him  ?  And  why  should 
she  have  to  mask  her  face  and  hide  it  from  the  public  ? 
She — an  heiress,  who  would  inherit  such  wealth — whose 
beauty  made  her  a  queen,  to  whom  men  were  like 
slaves ! 

The  veil  very  nearly  became  altered  in  its  condition 
as  she  thought  of  these  things,  but  she  put  it  on,  and 
smothered  her  wrath  until  they  got  out  upon  the  highway. 
Then  she  said,  after  a  long  silence  :  "  Would  it  not  be  as 
well  to  let  Margaret  wear  this  brown  veil  a  few  times, 
Geoffrey  ?  She  has  a  right  to  drive  about  with  you,  and 
if  people  thought  it  was  only  she,  their  curiosity  might 


cease 


I) 


A  farm-house  cur  came  barking  after  the  dog-cart  just 
then,  and  Geoffrey's  anger  expended  itself  partly  on  the 
dog,  instead  of  being  embodied  in  a  reply. 

The  whip  descended  so  viciously  through  the  air  that  a 
more  careful  person  might  have  seen  that  the  suggestion 
had  not  improved  his  temper. 

Except  this,  he  gave  no  answer.  She  pressed  the  sub- 
ject, although  she  know  he  was  angry.  "  Don't  you  think, 
Geoffrey,  that  that  would  be  a  good  thing  to  do?  It 
would  quite  remove  curiosity,  and  would,  in  any  case,  be 
only  fair  to  me." 

Now,  if  there  was  one  thing  Hampstead  could  not  and 
would  not  endure,  it  was  to  have  a  woman  he  amused  him- 
self with  attempt  to  put  herself  on  a  par  with  the  one  he 
reverenced.  Margaret  was  about  all  that  remained  of  his 
conscience.  She  embodied  all  the  good  he  knew.  Every 
resolve  and  hope  of  his  future  depended  upon  her.  He 
could  not  as  yet,  he  thought,  find  it  possible  always  to  live 
as  she  would  like  ;  but  in  a  calm  way,  so  controlled  as  to 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


215 


seem  almost  dispassionate,  he  worshiped  her,  as  it  were, 
in  the  abstract. 

His  ideas  concerning  her  were  so  rarefied  that,  in  any 
other  person,  he  might  have  called  them  fanatical.  He 
was  bad,  but  he  felt  that  he  would  rather  hang  himself 
than  allow  so  much  as  a  breath  to  dim  the  fair  mirror  of 
Margaret's  name.  At  the  very  mention  of  her  as  wearing 
this  brown  veil  he  grew  pale  with  anger,  and  the  barking 
cur  got  the  benefit  of  it,  and  at  Nina's  insistence  his  face 
and  eyes  grew  like  steel. 

"  Heavens  above  !  Can't  you  let  her  name  alone  ?  Is 
it  not  enough  for  you  to  raise  the  devil  in  me,  without 
scheming  to  give  her  trouble  ?  Do  you  think  I  will  allow 
her  to  step  in  and  be  blamed  for  what  it  was  your  whim  to 
go  in  for — risks  and  all  ? " 

Nina  was  ready  now  to  let  the  proposition  drop,  but 
she  could  not  refrain  from  adding  :  "  She  would  not  be 
blamed  for  very  much  if  she  were  blamed  for  all  that  has 
happened  between  us." 

There  was  truth  in  what  she  said,  but  Geoffrey  had 
looked  upon  these  meetings  as  anything  but  innocent. 
Argument  on  the  point  was  insufferable,  and  it  only  made 
him  lash  out  worse,  as  he  interrupted  her. 

"  Good  God,  Nina  !  you  must  be  mad  !  Don't  you  see  ? 
Don't  you  understand  ? " 

Nina  waited  a  second  while  she  thought  over  what  he 
meant,  and  her  blood  seemed  to  boil  as  she  considered  dif- 
ferent things. 

"Yes,  I  do  understand.  You  need  say  no  more," 
cried  she,  with  her  eyes  blazing.  "  You  want  me  to  realize 
that  1  am  so  much  beneath  her — that  she  is  so  far  above 
me — that,  although  I  have  done  nothing  much  out  of  the 
way,  the  imputation  of  her  doing  the  same  thing  is  a  kind 
of  death  to  you.  You  go  out  of  your  way  to  try  and  hurt 
me — 


V 


2l6 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


.";'•• 
',»»>•* 


.*  '.: 


"No,  no,  Nina,"  said  Geoffrey,  controlling  himself,  "I 
do  not  want  to  hurt  your  feelings.  If  we  must  continue 
speaking  on  this  unpleasant  subject,  I  will  explain." 

"  That  will  do,  Geoffrey  Hampstead,"  she  exclaimed 
in  a  rage;  "I  don  t  want  to  hear  your  explanation.  I 
hate  you  and  despise  you  !  I  have  been  a  fool  myself, 
but  you  have  been  a  greater  one.  I  could  have  made  a 
prince  of  you.  I  was  fool  enough  to  do  this,  and  now," 
here  Nina  tore  the  veil  off  her  head,  and  threw  it  on  the 
road,  "and  now,"  she  continued,  as  she  faced  him  with 
flashing  eyes,  "  you  will  always  remain  nothing  but  a  mis- 
erable bank-clerk.  Who  are  you  that  you  should  presume 
to  insult  me?  and  who  is  she  that  she  should  be  held 
over  my  head  ?  I  am  as  good  in  every  way  as  she  is,  and, 
if  all  that's  said  is  true,  I  am  a  good  deal  better." 

Geoffrey  listened  silently  to  all  she  said,  and  to  her 
blind  imputation  against  Margaret.  Gazing  in  front  of 
him  with  a  look  that  boded  ill,  he  reduced  the  horse's 
pace  to  a  walk,  so  that  he  need  not  watch  his  driving,  and 
turned  to  her,  speaking  slowly,  his  face  cruel  and  his  eyes 
small  and  glittering. 

"  Listen !  You  have  consciously  played  the  devil 
with  me  ever  since  I  knew  you.  You  have  known  from 
the  first  how  you  held  me  ;  you  played  your  part  to  per- 
fection, and  I  liked  it.  It  amused  me.  It  made  better 
things  seem  sweeter  after  I  left  you.  It  is  not  easy  to  be 
very  good  all  at  once,  and  you  partly  supplied  me  with  the 
opposite.  I  don't  blame  you  for  it,  because  I  liked  it,  and 
I  confess  to  encouraging  you,  but  the  fact  is — you  sought 
me.  Hush  !  Don't  deny  it !  As  women  seek,  you 
sought  me.  We  tactily  agreed  to  be  untrue  to  every  tie 
in  order  to  meet  continually,  and  in  a  mild  sort  of  way 
try  to  make  life  interesting.  Did  either  of  us  ever  try  by 
word  or  deed  to  improve  the  other  ?  Certainly  not.  Nor 
did  we  ever  intend  to  do  so.     We  taught  each  other  noth- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


217 


ing  but  scheming  and  treachery.  And  you  thought  that 
you  would  make  the  devil  so  pleasing  that  I  could  not  do 
without  him.  This  is  the  plain  truth — in  spite  of  your 
sneer.  Recollect,  I  don't  mind  what  you  say  about  me, 
but  you  have  undertaken  to  insult  and  lay  schemes  for 
somebody  else,  and  that  I'll  not  forgive.  For  that^  I  say 
what  I  do,  and  I  make  you  see  your  position,  when  you, 
who  have  been  a  mass  of  treachery  ever  since  you  were 
born,  dare  to  compare  yourself  with — no  matter  who.  I 
won't  even  mention  her  name  here.  That's  how  I  look 
upon  this  affair,  if  you  insist  upon  plain  neech.  Now  we 
understand  things." 

It  was  a  cruel,  brutal  tirade.  Truth  seems  very  bru- 
tal sometimes.  He  began  slowly,  but  as  he  went  on,  his 
tongue  grew  faster,  until  it  was  like  a  mitrailleuse.  Nina 
was  bewildered.  She  had  angered  him  intentionally  ;  but 
she  had  not  known  that  on  one  subject  he  was  a  fanatic, 
and  thus  liable  to  all  the  madness  that  fanaticism  implies. 
She  said  nothing,  and  Hampstead,  with  scarcely  a  pause, 
added,  in  a  more  ordinary  tone  :  "  It  will  be  unpleasant  for 
us  to  drive  any  further  together.  You  are  accustomed  to 
driving.     I'll  walk." 

He  handed  the  reins  to  Nina  and  swung  himself  out 
without  stopping  the  horse.  She  took  the  reins  in  a  half- 
dazed  way  and  asked  vaguely  : 

"  What  will  I  do  with  the  horse  when  I  get  to  the 
town  ?  " 

"Turn  him  adrift,"  said  Geoffrey,  over  his  shoulder, 
as  he  proceeded  up  a  cross-road,  feeling  that  he  never 
wished  to  see  either  her  or  the  trap  again. 

Nina  stopped  the  horse  to  try  to  think.  She  could  not 
think.  His  biting  words  had  driven  all  thought  out  of 
her.  She  only  knew  he  was  going  away  from  her  forever. 
She  looked  after  him,  and  saw  him  a  hundred  yards  off 
lighting  a  cigar  with  a  fusee  as  he  walked  along.     She 


V 


I  I 


VHD 


2l8 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


'■W»0> 


h  J 


*■*•». 

'.;^ 

i''- 

-::i 


called  to  him  and  he  turned.  The  country  side  was  quiet, 
and  he  could  hear  her  say,  "  Come  here  ! "  He  went 
back,  and  found  her  weeping.  All  she  could  say  was 
"  Get  in."  Of  course  he  got  in,  and  they  drove  off  up 
the  cross-road  so  as  to  meet  no  person  until  she  calmed 
herself.    After  a  while  she  sobbed  out : 

"  Oh,  you  are  cruel,  Geoffrey.  I  may  be  a  mass  of 
treachery,  but  not  to  you — not  to  you,  Geoffrey.  Having 
to  put  on  the  veil  angered  me.  I  have  been  wicked.  We 
have  both  been  wicked.  But  you  are  so  much  worse  than 
I  am.     You  know  you  are !  " 

As  she  said  this  it  sounded  partly  true  and  partly 
whimsical,  so  she  tried  to  smile  again.  He  could  not  en- 
deavor to  resist  tears  when  he  knew  that  he  had  been  un- 
necessarily harsh,  and  he  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to 
smile  also  and  to  smooth  things  over. 

As  a  tacit  confession  that  he  was  sorry  for  his  violence, 
he  took  the  hand  that  lay  beside  him  into  his,  and  so  they 
drove  along  toward  the  city,  each  extending  to  the  other 
a  good  deal  of  that  fellow-feeling  which  arises  from  com- 
munity in  guilt.  Both  felt  that  in  tearing  off  the  mask 
for  a  while  they  had  revealed  to  each  other  things  which, 
being  confessed,  left  them  with  hardly  a  secret  on  either 
side,  and  if  this  brought  them  more  together,  by  making 
them  more  open  with  each  other,  both  felt  that  they  now 
met  upon  a  lower  platform. 


4. 


CHAPTER   XVn. 

Consider  the  work  of  God :  for  who  can  make  that  straight,  which  he 
hath  made  crooked  ? — Ecclesiastes  vii,  13. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  disturbance  in  the  dog-cart  Geof- 
frey and  Maurice  Rankin  were  dining,  on  a  Sunday,  with 


iiliii!^ 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


219 


the  Mackintoshes.  After  dinner  a  walk  was  proposed, 
and  Margaret  went  out  with  them,  very  spick-and-span  and 
charming  in  an  old  black  silk  **  made  over,"  and  with  a 
bright  bunch  of  common  geraniums  at  her  belt.  She  had 
invited  the  young  lawyer  partly  because  he  had  seemed  so 
distrustful  of  Geoffrey,  and  she  wished  to  bring  the  two 
more  together,  so  that  Maurice  might  see  that  he  had  mis- 
judged him.  In  the  course  of  their  walk  Geoffrey  asked, 
for  want  of  something  better  to  say  : 

"  How  goes  the  law,  Rankin  ?     Things  stirring  ? " 

**  Might  be  worse,"  replied  Maurice.  *'By  the  way, 
Margaret,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  Mr.  Bean  actually  brought 
in  a  client  the  other  day." 

"  Somebody  he  had  been  drinking  with,  I  suppose," 
said  Margaret,  who  had  heard  of  Mr.  Bean. 

**  Right  you  are.  They  supported  each  other  into  the 
office,  and  before  Bean  sank  into  his  chair  I  was  intro- 
duced by  him  as  his  *  jun'or  par'ner.' " 

"  Could  not  Mr.  Bean  do  the  same  every  day  ?  Supply 
the  office  by  bringing  up  his  friends  when  prepared  to  be 
lavish  with  money }  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  Bean  would  be  always  tipsy  himself 
before  the  victim  was  ready.  Still,  your  idea  is  worth 
consideration.  Of  course  nobody  would  want  law  from 
Bean  unless  he  were  pretty  far  gone,  and  in  this  case  the 
poor  old  chap  knew  no  more  about  what  was  wanted  than 
the  inquirer." 

"Had  the  client  any  money?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"  Money  ?  He  was  reeking  with  it.  What  he  wanted, 
he  said,  was  a  quiet  lawyer.  I  told  him  that  the  quiet- 
ness of  our  business  was  its  Ltrong  point,  only  equaled, 
in  fact,  by  the  unpleasant  grave.  Then  it  appeared  that 
he  had  come  on  a  trip  from  the  States  with  a  carpet-bag 
full  of  money  which  he  said  he  had  borrowed,  and  he 
wished,  in   effect,  to  know  whether  the  United  States 


220 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


jti 


■,  >] 


im 


could  take  him  back  again,  m  et  armis.  I  told  him  *  No,' 
and  knocked  ten  dollars  out  of  him  before  you  could  say 
*  knife.'" 

"You  might  have  made  it  fifty  while  you  were  about 
it,"  said  Geoffrey. 

"  Well,  you  see,  the  man  was  not  entirely  sober,  and, 
after  all,  ten  dollars  a  word  is  fair  average  pay.  I  never 
charge  more  than  that." 

"  You  mean  that  the  unfortunate  was  too  sober  to  be 
likely  to  pay  any  more,"  said  Margaret. 

Maurice  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  deprecation  of  this 
idea. 

Said  Geoffrey :  "  I  often  meet  Mr.  Bean  on  the  street. 
He  is  a  very  idle  man  ;  I  know  by  the  way  he  carries  his 
pipe  in  his  mouth." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Everything.  He  smokes  with  his  pipe  in  the  center 
of  his  mouth." 

*'Well?" 

"  Well,  no  one  does  that  unless  very  old  or  very  idle. 
Men  get  the  habit  from  smoking  all  day  while  sitting 
down  or  lounging.  No  one  can  walk  hurriedly  with  his 
pipe  in  that  position  ;  it  would  jar  his  front  teeth  out.  I 
have  noticed  that  an  active  man  invariably  holds  his 
pipe  in  the  side  of  his  mouth,  where  he  can  grasp  it 
firmly." 

"  Hampstead,  you  should  have  been  a  detective." 

"  Such  is  genius,"  said  Margaret.  "  Geoffrey  has  any 
quantity  of  unprofitable  genius." 

"  That  reminds  me  that  I  once  heard  my  grandfather 
telling  my  father  the  same  thing,  but  it  was  not  very  cor- 
rect about  my  father." 

"  Indeed  !  By  the  way,  Geoffrey,  if  it  is  not  an  imper- 
tinent question  for  your  future  wife  to  ask,  who  was  your 
grandfather  ? " 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


221 


This  ignorance  on  the  part  of  an  engaged  girl  made 
Maurice  cackle. 

"  Who  is  he,  you  mean.  He  is  still  alive,  I  think,  and 
as  old  as  the  hills." 

"  Dear  me  !  How  very  strange  that  you  never  told 
me  of  his  existence  before !  " 

**  His  existence  is  not  a  very  interesting  one  to  me — in 
fact,  quite  the  reverse  ;  besides  I  don't  think  we  have 
ever  lacked  a  more  interesting  topic,  have  we  Margaret  ?  " 

'*  I  imagine  not,"  quoth  Rankin  dryly.  Margaret 
stopped  ;  she  thought  there  might  be  something  "  queer  " 
about  this  grandfather  that  Geoffrey  might  not  care  to 
speak  about  before  a  third  person.  She  merely  said,  there- 
fore, intending  to  drop  the  matter  gently  : 

"  How  very  old  the  senior  Mr.  Hampstead  must  be  ? " 

"  Hampstead  is  only  the  family  name.  The  old  boy  is 
Lord  Warcote.  I  am  a  sort  of  a  Radical  you  know,  Mar- 
garet, and  the  truth  is  I  had  a  quarrel  with  my  family. 
Only  for  this,  I  might  have  gone  into  the  matter  before." 

"  Never  mind  going  into  anything  unpleasant.  You 
told  my  father,  of  course,  that  you  were  a  son  of  Mr.  Man- 
son  Hampstead,  one  of  the  old  families  in  Shropshire. 
And  so  you  are.  We  will  let  it  rest  at  that.  Family  dif- 
ferences must  always  be  disagreeable  subjects.  Let  us 
talk  about  something  else." 

*'  Now  we  are  on  the  subject,  I  might  as  well  tell  you 
all  about  it.  First,  I  will  secure  Rankin's  secrecy.  Be- 
hold five  cents !  Mr.  Rankin,  I  retain  you  with  this  sum  as 
my  solicitor  to  advise  when  called  upon  concerning  the 
facts  I  am  about  to  relate.  You  are  bound  now  by  your 
professional  creed  not  to  divulge,  are  you  not  ?  " 

*'  Drive  on,"  said  Maurice,  "  I'm  an  oyster." 

"  There  is  not  a  great  deal  to  tell,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  The 
unpleasant  part  of  it  has  always  made  me  keep  the  story 
entirely  to  myself.     When  I  came  to  this  continent  I  was 


n 


222 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


*<wtrr 


r» 


* »... 


in  such  a  rage  with  everything  and  everybody  that  I 
abandoned  the  chance  of  letters  of  introduction.  No- 
body here  knows  who  I  am.  I  have  worked  my  own  way 
to  the  exalted  position  in  which  you  find  me.  A  good 
while  ago  my  father  was  in  the  English  diplomatic  serv- 
ice, and  he  still  retains,  1  believe,  a  responsible  post  under 
the  Government.  Like  a  good  many  others,  though,  he 
was,  although  clever,  not  always  quite  clever  enough,  and 
in  one  episode  of  his  life,  in  which  I  am  interested,  he 
failed  to  have  things  his  own  way.  For  ten  years  he  was 
in  different  parts  of  Russia,  where  his  duties  called  him. 
He  had  acquired  such  a  profound  knowledge  of  Russian 
and  other  languages  that  these  advantages,  together  with 
his  other  gifts,  served  to  keep  him  longer  in  a  sort  of  exile 
for  the  simple  reason  that  there  were  few,  if  any,  in  the 
service  who  could  carry  out  what  was  required  as  well 
as  he  could  himself.  From  his  official  duties  and  his 
pleasant  manner  he  became  well  known  in  Russian  so- 
ciety, and  he  counted  among  his  intimate  friends  several  of 
the  nobility  who  possessed  influence  in  the  country.  After 
a  long  series  of  duties  he  and  some  young  Russians,  to 
whom  passports  were  almost  unneccessary,  used  to  make 
long  trips  through  the  country  in  the  mild  seasons  to  shoot 
and  fish.  In  this  way  some  of  the  young  nobles  rid  them- 
selves of  ennut)  and  reverted  by  an  easy  transition  to  the 
condition  of  their  immediate  ancestors.  They  had  their 
servants  with  them,  and  lived  a  Hfe  of  conviviality  and  lux- 
ury even  in  the  wildest  regions  which  they  visited.  When 
they  entered  a  small  town  on  these  journeyings  they  did 
pretty  much  what  they  liked,  and  nobody  dared  to  com- 
plain at  the  capital.  If  a  small  official  provoked  or  delayed 
them  they  horsewhipped  him.  In  fact,  what  they  de- 
lighted in  was  going  back  to  savagery  and  taking  their 
luxuries  with  them,  dashing  over  the  vast  country  on  fleet 
horses,  making  a  pandemonium  whenever  and  wherever 


!• 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


223 


they  liked ;  in  short,  in  giving  full  swing  to  their  Tartar 
and  Kalmuck  blood.  On  one  occasion  my  father  was  feel- 
ing wearied  to  death  with  red  tape,  but  nobody  was  in- 
clined at  the  time  for  another  expedition.  He  therefore 
obtained  leave  to  go  with  a  military  detachment  to  Semi- 
palatinsk,  from  which  town  some  prisoners  had  to  be 
brought  back  to  St.  Petersburg.  There  was  little  trouble 
in  obtaining  his  permit,  especially  as  he  had  been  partly 
over  the  road  before.  So  he  went  with  his  horses  and  serv- 
ant as  far  as  the  railway  would  take  him,  and  then  joined 
a  band  of  fifty  wild-looking  Cossacks  and  set  out.  When 
within  a  hundred  and  fifty  versts  from  Semipalatinsk  they 
encountered  a  warlike  band  of  about  twenty-five  well 
mounted  Tartars  returning  from  a  marauding  expedition. 
They  had  several  horses  laden  with  booty,  also  some  fe- 
male prisoners.  It  was  the  old  story  of  one  tribe  of  sav- 
ages pillaging  another.  The  Cossacks  were  out  in  the 
wilderness.  Although  supposed  to  be  under  discipline, 
they  were  one  and  all  freebooters  to  the  backbone.  Their 
captain,  under  pretense  of  seeing  right  done,  allowed  an 
attack  to  be  made  by  the  Cossacks.  They  drove  off  the 
other  robbers,  ransacked  the  booty,  took  what  they  wanted, 
and  under  color  of  giving  protection,  took  the  women  also, 
hoping  to  dispose  of  them  quietly  as  slaves  at  some  town. 
These  women  were  then  mounted  on  several  of  the  pack- 
horses,  and  the  Cossacks  rode  ofT  on  their  journey,  leaving 
everything  else  on  the  plain  for  the  other  roobers  to  retake. 
"  My  father  had  kept  aloof  from  the  disturbance.  It 
was  none  of  his  business.  He  sat  on  his  horse  and 
quietly  laughed  at  the  whole  transaction.  He  had  be- 
come very  Russian  in  a  good  many  ways,  and  he  cer- 
tainly knew  what  Cossacks  were,  and  that  any  protest 
from  him  would  only  be  useless.  It  was  simply  a  case  of 
the  biter  bit.  He  joined  the  party  as  they  galloped  on  to 
make  up  for  lost  time. 


'M 


i 

1 

1 

! 
1 

t 
1 

! 

■I 

i! 
.1 

22. 


GEd-rREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


I  ?  V  ■     . 


"  As  for  the  women,  it  was  now  nothing  to  them  that 
their  captors  had  changed.  Early  in  the  morning  their 
village  had  been  pillaged  and  their  defenders  slain.  It 
was  all  one  to  them,  now.  Slavery  awaited  them  wher- 
ever they  went.  So  they  sat  their  horses  with  their  usual 
ease,  veiled  their  faces,  and  resigned  themselves  to  their 
fate.  But  as  the  afternoon  wore  on,  the  wily  captain  be- 
gan to  think  that  my  father  would  certainly  see  through 
the  marauding  escapade  of  his,  and  that  it  would  be  un- 
pleasant to  hear  about  it  again  from  the  authorities,  and 
so  he  cast  about  him  for  the  easiest  way  to  deceive  or  pro- 
pitiate him.  That  evening,  as  my  father  was  sitting  in 
his  kibitka^  the  curtain  was  raised  and  the  captain  smil- 
ingly led  in  one  of  the  captive  slaves — a  woman  of  ex- 
traordinary beauty.     And  who  do  you  think  she  was  ?  " 

Margaret  turned  pale.  She  grasped  Geoffrey's  arm, 
as  her  quick  intelligence  divined  what  was  coming. 

**  No,  no,"  she  said.  *'  You  are  not  going  to  tell  me 
that  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Geoffrey  with  a  pinched  expression  on  his 
face.  "  That  is  just  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  That 
poor  slave — that  ignorant  and  beautiful  savage  was  my 
mother." 

Margaret  was  thunderstruck.  She  did  not  compre- 
hend how  things  stood,  but  with  a  ready  solicitude  for 
him  in  a  time  of  pain,  she  passed  her  hand  through  his 
arm  and  drew  herself  closer  to  him,  as  they  walked  along. 

As  for  Maurice,  he  ground  his  teeth  as  he  witnessed 
Margaret's  loving  solicitude.  It  was  a  relief  i  him  to 
rasp  out  his  dislike  for  Geoffrey  under  his  breath.  "  I 
always  knew  he  was  a  wolf,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

**  You  will  see  now,"  continued  Geoffrey,  "  why  I  pre- 
ferred not  to  be  known  in  this  country.  To  be  one  of  a 
family  with  a  title  in  it  did  not  compensate  me  for  being  a 
thorough  savage  on  my  mother's  side. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


225 


"  But  I  will  continue  my  story.  The  beauty  of  the 
woman  attracted  my  father.  He  spoke  to  her  kindly  in 
her  own  language  and  made  her  partake  of  his  dinner  with 
him.  He  thought  that  in  any  case  he  could  save  her  from 
being  sold  into  slavery  by  the  Cossacks. 

"  These  wild  half-brothers  of  mine  took  it  as  a  matter 
of  course  that  my  father  would  be  pleased  with  his  acqui- 
sition, but  they  suggested  vodki  and  got  it — so  that  my 
mother  was  in  reality  purchased  from  them  for  a  few  bot- 
tles of  whisky. 

"  They  went  on  toward  Semipalatinsk  and  got  the 
prisoners.  My  father  intended  to  leave  the  won)ua  at  that 
town,  but  she  wished  to  see  the  White  Czar  and  h  great 
city,  of  which  she  had  heard,  and  she  begged  so  rd  to 
be  taken  back  with  him  that  he  began  to  think  he  might 
as  well  do  so. 

"The  fact  was  that  a  whim  seized  him  to  see  her 
dressed  as  a  European,  and  as  they  waited  at  Semipala- 
tinsk for  ten  days  before  returning,  he  had  time  to  have 
garments  made  which  were  as  near  to  the  European  styles 
as  he  could  suggest.  It  was  evidently  the  clothes  that  de- 
cided the  matter.  In  her  coarse  native  habiliments  she 
was  simply  a  savage  to  a  fastidious  man,  but  when  she 
was  arrayed  in  a  familiar  looking  dress  assisted  by  the  soft 
silken  fabrics  of  the  East,  he  was  bewitched.  She  told 
him,  on  the  journey  back,  how  her  father  had  always 
counted  upon  having  enough  to  live  on  for  the  rest  of  his 
life  when  she  was  sold  to  the  traders  who  purchased  slaves 
for  the  haremo  at  Constantinople. 

"  My  father  took  her  to  St.  Petersburg  with  him,  where 
they  lived  for  three  years  together.  Such  a  thing  as  marry- 
ing her  never  entered  his  head.  He  simply  lived  like  his 
friends.  I  never  found  out  how  much  she  was  received 
in  society — no  doubt  she  had  all  the  society  she  wanted — 
but  I  did  hear  from  an  old  friend  of  my  father,  who  spoke 
15 


i  1: 


*  I 


226 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


!*•» 


!*>■; 


•%i' 


""i' 

^^1 


,  im- 


of  her  with  much  respect,  that  her  beauty  created  the 
greatest  sensation  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  that  when  she 
went  to  the  theatre  the  spectators  were  all  like  astrono- 
mers at  a  transit  of  Venus.  She  made  good  use  of  her 
time,  however,  and  at  the  end  of  three  years  she  could 
speak  and  write  English  a  little. 

"  At  the  end  of  three  years  from  the  time  he  met  her, 
my  father  was  called  back  to  England.  He  left  her  in  his 
house  in  St.  Petersburg  with  all  the  money  necessary,  and 
came  home.  I  think  he  intended  to  go  back  to  her  when 
he  got  ready.  But  she  settled  that  question  by  coming  to 
England  herself.  She  could  not  bear  the  separation  after 
three  months  of  waiting.  Imagine  the  scene  when  she 
arrived  !  Lord  and  Lady  Warcote  were  having  a  dinner 
party,  when  in  came  my  mother,  as  lovely  as  a  dream,  and 
throwing  her  a/ms  round  my  father  she  forgot  her  English 
and  addressed  him  fondly  in  the  Tartar  dialect. 

**  My  father,  for  a  moment,  was  paralyzed  ;  but,  in 
spite  of  the  enervating  effect  of  this  exotic's  sudden  ap- 
pearance, he  could  not  help  feeling  proud  of  her  when  he 
saw  how  magnificent  she  was  in  her  new  Paris  costume, 
and  it  occurred  to  him  that  her  wonderful  beauty  would 
carry  things  oflf  with  a  high  hand  ^or  a  while,  until  he  could 
perhaps  get  her  back  to  Russia.  She,  however,  after  the 
moment  in  which  she  greeted  him,  stood  up  to  her  full 
height,  and  glancing  rapidly  around  the  table  at  all  the 
speechless  guests,  recognized  my  grandfather  from  a 
photograph  she  had  seen.  Lord  Warcote  was  sitting — 
starchy  and  speechless — at  the  end  of  the  table. 

"  *  Ah  !  zo  I  Oo  are  ze  little  faazer  ! '  And  before  he 
could  say  a  word  the  handsomest  woman  in  England  had 
kissed  him,  and  had  taken  his  hand  and  patted  it. 

'*  Another  brisk  look  around,  and  she  recognized  Lady 
Warcote  in  the  same  wav.  She  floated  round  the  table  to 
greet  '  dear  mutter.'     But  here  she  saw  she  was  making  a 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


227 


mistake — that  everything  was  not  all  right.  Lady  Warcote 
was  not  so  susceptible  to  female  beauty  as  she  might  have 
been.  She  arose  from  her  chair,  her  face  scarlet  with  an- 
ger, and  motioned  my  mother  away. 

"  *  Manson,'  she  said,  addressing  my  father,  *  is  this 
woman  your  wife  ?  * 

"  My  father  had  now  recovered  from  his  shock,  and 
was  laughing  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  face.  My  mother, 
seeing  his  merriment,  took  courage  again  and  said  gayly  : 

"  '  Yes,  yes  !  He  have  buy  me — for  one — two — tree 
bottle  vodki.'  She  counted  the  numbers  on  the  tips  of 
her  fingers,  her  shapely  hands  flashing  with  jewels.  Then 
her  laughter  chimed  merrily  in  with  my  father's  guffaw. 
She  ran  back  to  him,  took  his  head  in  both  her  hands  and 
said,  imitating  a  long-drawn  tone  of  childish  earnestness : 

**  *  It  was  cheap — che-ap.     I  was  wort'  more  dan  vodki' 

'*  Lord  Warcote  had  lived  a  fast  life  in  his  earlier  days. 
After  Nature  had  allowed  him  a  rare  fling  for  sixty  years 
she  was  beginning  to  withdraw  her  powers,  and  my  grand- 
father had  become  as  religious  as  he  had  been  fast.  The 
effect  of  my  mother's  presence  upon  him  was  to  make  him 
suddenly  young  again,  and  although  he  soon  assumed  his 
new  Puritan  gravity  he  could  not  keep  his  eyes  off  her. 
On  a  jury  he  would  have  acquitted  her  of  anything,  and 
when  she  turned  around  imperiously  and  told  a  servant  to 
bring  a  chair,  *  Good  Lord  ! '  he  said,  '  she's  a  Russian 
princess  !  "  and  he  jumped  up  like  an  old  courtier  to  get 
the  chair  himself.  The  more  he  heard  of  her  story  the 
more  interested  he  became,  and  when  he  had  heard  it 
all,  nothing  would  suffice  but  an  immediate  marriage.  My 
father  protested  on  several  grounds,  but  his  protests  made 
no  difference  to  the  old  man.  His  will,  he  said,  would  be 
law  until  he  died,  and  even  after  he  died,  and,  what  with 
my  mother's  beauty,  which  made  him  take  what  he  under- 
stood to  be  a  strong  religious  interest  in  her  behalf,  and 


^\ 


I 


228 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


m' 


'«• 


m^ 


-.t 


I 


»«» 


'■'Li;?  i       ifc 


one  thing  and  another,  he  got  quite  fanatical  on  the  point. 
He  forgot  himself  several  times,  and  swore  he  would  cut 
father  off  with  nothing  if  he  refused. 

"  The  end  of  it  was  that  they  were  married  at  once,  and 
afterward  I  was  born.  My  poor  mother  had  no  intention 
of  giving  father  trouble  when  she  came  to  England,  neither 
did  she  wish  in  the  slightest  degree  for  a  formal  marriage, 
the  usefulness  of  which  she  did  not  understand.  She  sim- 
ply felt  that  she  could  not  do  without  him.  And  I  don't 
think  he  ever  regretted  the  step  he  was  driven  to.  She 
had  some  failings,  but  she  was  as  true  and  loving  to  him 
as  a  woman  could  be,  besides  being,  for  a  short  time,  con- 
sidered a  miracle  of  beauty  in  London. 

"  I  can  only  remember  her  dimly  as  going  out  riding 
with  father.  They  say  her  horsemanship  was  the  most 
perfect  thing  ever  seen  in  the  hunting  field.  It  was  the 
means  of  her  death  at  last.  The  trouble  was  that  she 
did  not  know  what  fear  was  while  on  horseback.  She 
thought  a  horse  ought  to  do  anything.  Father  has  told 
me  that  when  they  were  out  together  a  freak  would  seize 
her  suddenly,  and  away  she  would  go  across  country  for 
miles— riding  furiously,  like  her  forefathers,  waving  her  . 
whip  high  in  the  air  for  him  to  follow,  and  taking  every- 
thing on  the  full  fly.  If  her  horse  could  not  get  over  any- 
thing he  had  to  go  through  it.  At  last,  one  day,  an  oak 
fence  stopped  her  horse  forever,  and  she  was  carried  home 
dead.     I  was  three  years  old  then." 

Geoffrey  paused. 

The  others  remained  silent.  His  strong  magnetic 
voice,  rendered  more  powerful  by  the  vehement  way  he 
interpreted  the  last  part  of  the  story  in  his  actions,  im- 
pressed them.  They  were  walking  in  the  Queen's  Park 
at  this  time,  and  it  did  not  matter  that  he  was  more  than 
usually  graphic.  When  he  spoke  of  the  wild  riding  of 
the  Tartars,  he  sprang  forward  full  of  a  bodily  eloquence. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


229 


For  an  instant,  while  poised  upon  his  toes,  his  cane  wav- 
ing high  aloft,  his  head  and  shoulders  thrown  back  in  an 
ecstasy  of  abandon,  and  his  left  hand  outstretched  as  if 
holding  the  reins,  he  seemed  to  electrify  them,  and  to 
give  them  the  whole  scene  as  it  appeared  in  his  own 
mind.     Rankin  shuddered.     Involuntarily  he  gasped  out : 

"  Hampstead  !     For  God's  sake,  don't  do  that!  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Geoffrey,  as  he  resumed  his  place 
beside  them,  while  the  wild  flash  died  out  of  his  eyes. 

"Because  no  man  could  do  it  like  that  unless — be- 
cause, in  fact,  you  do  it  too  infernally  well." 

Rankin  felt  that  Margaret  must  be  suffering.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  Geoffrey  had  really  become  a  Tartar 
marauder  for  a  moment.     Perhaps  he  had. 

"  Don't  mind  my  saying  this,"  Maurice  added,  with 
apology.     "  Really,  I  could  not  help  it." 

Geoffrey  laughed.  Margaret  was  grave.  Rankin  strayed 
on  a  few  steps  in  advance,  and  Geoffrey,  taking  advan- 
tage of  it,  whispered  quickly.  "  What  are  you  thinking  of, 
Margaret  ? " 

"  I  was  thinking  I  saw  a  wild  man,"  said  Margaret 
truthfully.  Then,  to  be  more  pleasant,  she  added,  "  And 
I  thought  that  if  Tartar  marauders  were  all  like  you, 
Geoffrey,  I  would  rather  prefer  them  as  a  class." 

Maurice,  who  was  unconsciously  de  trop  at  this  mo- 
ment, turned  and  said  : 

"  You  have  got  me  *  worked  up '  over  your  story,  and 
now  I  demand  to  know  more.  Do  not  say  that  *  the  con- 
tinuation of  this  story  will  be  published  in  the  New  York 
Ledger  of  the  current  year.'     Go  ahead." 

"  Anything  more  I  have  to  tell,"  said  Geoffrey,  "  only 
relates  to  myself." 
"  Never  mind.     For  once  you  are  interesting.     Drive 


on. 


>> 


"  Well,  where  was  I  ?     Oh,  yes  !     Well,  my  father  mar- 


230 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


ti*' 


»«i. 


nfi**! 


ried  again  six  months  after  my  mother's  death.  He  mar- 
ried a  woman  who  had  been  a  flame  of  his  in  early  youth, 
and  who  had  developed  a  fine  temper  in  her  virgin  soli- 
tude. They  had  six  children.  I  was  packed  off  to  school 
early,  and  was  kept  there  almost  continually.  After  that 
I  was  sent  away  traveling  with  a  tutor,  a  sanctimonious 
fellow  who  urged  me  intp  all  the  devilment  the  Continent 
could  provide,  so  that  he  might  really  enjoy  himself. 
Then  I  came  home  and  got  rid  of  him.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  I  first  heard  from  my  father  about  my  mother 
and  my  birth.  The  story  did  me  no  good.  I  got  morbid 
over  it.  Previously  I  had  thought  myself  of  the  best 
blood  in  England.  We  were  entitled  as  of  right  to  royal 
quarterings,  and  the  new  intelligence  struck  all  the  pea- 
cock pride  out  of  me.  I  felt  like  a  burst  balloon.  The 
only  thing  I  cared  about  was  to  go  to  R.ussia  and  see  the 
place  my  mother  came  from.  I  got  letters  from  my  father 
to  some  of  his  old  friends  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  with 
their  influence  found  my  way  to  the  very  village  my 
mother  came  from.  Some  of  the  villagers  remembered 
quite  well  the  raid  when  my  mother  was  carried  off  and 
how  her  enterprising  father  had  been  killed.  What  made 
me  wonder  was  where  my  mother  got  her  aristocratic 
beauty.  Among  the  undiluted,  pug-nosed,  bestial  Tartars 
such  beauty  was  impossible.  I  found,  however,  that  my 
mother's  mother  had  also  been  a  captive.  No  one  knew 
where  she  came  from.  Most  likely  from  Circassia  or 
Persia.  The  villagers  at  the  time  of  the  raid  were  the 
remnants  of  a  large  predatory  tribe  that  formerly  used 
to  sally  forth  on  long  excursions  covering  many  hun- 
dreds of  miles.  At  that  time — the  time  of  their  strength 
— they  lived  almost  entirely  by  robbery,  and  their  name 
was  dreaded  everywhere  within  a  radius  of  five  hundred 
miles.  I  have  always  hoped  that  my  mother's  mother 
was-  of  some  better  race  than  the  Tartar.     There  is  no 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


231 


doubt,  however,  that  my  mother's  father  was  a  full- 
blooded  Tartar,  though  he  may  have  had  straighter  feat- 
ures than  the  generality  of  them.  I  found  there  a 
younger  brother  of  my  mother.  He  was  a  wallowing, 
drunken,  thieving  pig,  this  uncle  of  mine,  but  under  the 
bloated  look  he  had  acquired  from  excesses,  one  could 
trace  straight  and  possibly  handsome  features.  As  the 
son  would  most  likely  resemble  his  father,  I  can  only  in- 
fer that  the  father  was  not  so  bad-looking  as  he  might 
have  been,  and  so,  with  one  thing  and  another,  I  came 
to  understand  the  possibility  of  my  mother's  beauty. 

"  It  may  have  been  morbid  of  me.  I  should  have  left 
the  matter  alone,  for  I  believed  in  '  race  *  so  much  that 
my  discoveries  ground  me  into  dust.  Nothing  satisfied 
me,  however,  unless  I  went  to  the  bottom  of  it.  I  watched 
this  uncle  of  mine  for  two  or  three  weeks,  and  made  a 
friend  of  him,  merely  to  see  if  I  could  trace  in  him  any 
likeness  to  myself.  I  made  him  drunk.  I  made  him 
sober.  I  made  him  run  and  walk  and  ride.  Sometimes  I 
thought  I  traced  the  likeness  clearly,  and  then  again  I 
changed  my  mind.  I  tried  him  in  other  ways,  leaving  in 
my  quarters  small  desirable  objects  partly  concealed. 
They  ;:lways  disappeared.  He  stole  them  with  the  regu- 
larity of  clockwork.  I  can  laugh  over  these  matters  now, 
speaking  of  them  for  the  first  time  in  twelve  years.  At 
that  time  I  groaned  over  it,  and  still  persevered  in  trying 
to  find  out  what  could  do  me  no  good.  I  am  so  like  my 
father  that  I  could  find  no  resemblance  in  me  to  the  Tartar 
uncle.  But  at  last  I  got  a  *  sickener.'  While  talking  to 
him  I  noticed  that  he  made  his  gestures  pointing  the  two 
first  fingers;  instead  of  all  or  only  one  finger.  I  watched 
his  dirty  hands  while  he  mumbled  on,  half  drunk,  and 
then  I  saw  that  for  a  pastime,  as  a  Western  Yankee  might 
whittle  or  pick  his  teeth,  this  man  threw  the  third  and 
fourth  fingers  of  his  left  hand  out  of  jbint  and  in  again. 


<  I 


yr^ 


232 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTE^D. 


U    H 


mv> 


y^ 


*  .< 


'■',$ 


He  said  his  father  and  also,  he  had  heard,  his  grandfather 
could  do  this  with  ease. 

"  An  hour  afterward,  I  think  I  must  have  been  a  good 
ten  miles  off— flying  back  to  civilized  Russia,  my  servants 
after  me,  thinking  I  was  mad.  Perhaps  I  was  a  little 
queer  in  the  head  at  the  time." 

"  What  made  you  go  off  in  that  way  ? "  asked  Maurice, 
who  did  not  see  the  connection. 

Geoffrey  made  no  verbal  reply,  but  he  held  out  his 
left  hand  with  the  two  last  fingers  out  of  joint.  Then  he 
showed  how  easily  he  could  put  them  "  in  "  and  "  out." 

"  None  of  my  father's  family  can  do  this,  but  my 
mother  could.  Both  my  mother  and  the  pig  of  an  uncle 
held  out  these  two  fingers  in  their  gestures,  and  curled  the 
others  up  so,  and  I  do  the  same.  I  can  laugh  now,  but 
it  killed  me  at  the  time. 

"  I  traveled  all  over  the  world  before  I  came  back  to 
England.  My  half-brothers  were  then  pretty  well  grown 
up  and  were  fully  acquainted  with  everything  concerning 
my  birth  and  my  mother's  history.  My  step-mother  hated 
me  because  I  was  the  eldest  son,  and  she  poisoned  her 
children's  minds  against  me.  She  sought  out  my  old  tutor, 
who,  when  paid  well,  told  her  a  lot  of  vile  and  untrue 
stories  about  me.  With  these  she  tried  to  poison  my 
father's  mind  also  in  regard  to  me.  I  was  moody,  morbid, 
and  restless.  They  looked  at  me  as  if  I  was  some  other 
kind  of  creature,  the  son  of  a  savage,  and  it  galled  me,  for 
all  my  subsequent  travelings  had  never  removed  the  sting 
of  my  birth.  Some  deplore  illegitimacy.  Rubbish ! 
Wrong  selection,  not  want  of  a  ceremony,  is  the  real  sin 
that  is  visited  unto  the  children. 

"  After  my  return  home  I  could  have  died  with  more 
complacency  than  I  felt  in  living.  Even  my  father  seemed 
at  last  to  be  turned  against  me  by  my  step-mother.  One 
day  while  we  were  at  dinner  my  step-mother,  who  possessed 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


233 


a  fiend's  temper,  had  a  hot  discussion  with  me  about  some- 
thing which  I  have  forgotten.  Words  were  not  well  chosen 
on  either  side,  and  she  flew  into  a  tantrum.  ,1  remember 
saying  at  last :  *  Madame,  it  would  take  two  or  three  keep- 
ers to  keep  you  in  order.'  Everybody  was  against  me,  of 
course,  and  when  her  own  eldest  son  half  arose  and  ad- 
dressed me,  his  remarks  met  with  applause.  What  he  said 
to  me,  in  quiet  scorn,  was  : 

' '  Our  mother's  temper  may  not  be  good,  sir,  but  we 
don't  find  it  necessary  to  send  a  keeper  with  her  to  keep 
her  from  stealing.' 

"  I  have  since  found  out,  in  a  roundabout  way,  that 
my  beautiful  mother  preferred  to  steal  a  thing  out  of  a 
shop  rather  than  pay  for  it.  My  father  had  always  looked 
at  this  weakness  of  hers  as  a  most  humorous  thing.  Any- 
thing she  did  charmed  him.  Sometimes  she  would  show 
him  what  she  had  stolen,  and  it  would  be  returned  or  paid 
for.  However,  at  the  time  that  this  was  said  to  me  at  the 
table  I  did  not  know  of  these  facts.  I  arose,  amid  the 
derisive  laughter  that  followed  the  *  good  hit,'  and  demand- 
ed of  my  father  how  he  dared  to  allow  my  mother's  name 
to  be  insulted.  I  secretly  felt  at  the  time  that  the  slur 
upon  her  honesty  might  be  well  founded,  but  the  possible 
truth  of  it  made  the  insult  all  the  worse  to  me. 

"  This  was  the  last  straw.  I  felt  myself  growing  wild. 
Father  did  not  look  at  me.  He  merely  went  on  with  his 
dinner,  laughing  quietly  at  the  old  joke  and  at  my  discom- 
fiture. He  said :  *  I  can  not  see  any  insult,  when  what 
Harry  says  is  perfectly  true — and  a  devilish  good  joke  it 
was.' 

"  I  did  not  appreciate  that  joke.  I  was  almost  crazy 
at  the  time.  My  father's  laughter  seemed  the  crudest 
thing  I  had  ever  hear.''-  I  'turned  to,'  as  Jack  Cresswell 
would  say,  and  cursed  them  all,  individually  and  col- 
lectively, and    then   took  my  hat  and   left    the   house. 


I , 


:•  '  >  ;l  i 
■  ;  »  •  .;  1 

■.,„'     r; 

:        ■    ■'-                    ■■  « 

^IHH. 


■J        ■    ■  m 


\  ^^  -. 


-.) 


?'a.- 


«fErjJ«m, 


.J''* 


4I« 


s'«w3> 


234 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


which  I  have  never  seen  since  and  never  intend  to  see 
again." 

"  And  what  about  the  tutor  that  told  the  stories  about 
you  ?  "  asked  Rankin. 

"  Aha,  Maurice,"  continued  Geoffrey,  brightening  up 
from  painful  memories,  "  you  have  a  noble  mind  for 
sequences.  What  about  the  tutor  ?  Just  so,  what  about 
him  ? "  and  Geoffrey  slapped  Rankin  on  the  back  heartily, 
as  a  pleasanter  memory  presented  itself  gratefully. 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  strike  me  like  that.  I  am 
thinking  of  going  to  church  to-night,  unless  disabled. 
What  about  your  beastly  tutor?  For  goodness'  sake,  do 
drive  on  !  " 

"Oh,  well,  I  can't  tell  you  much  about  that,  not  just 
now.  Of  course,  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  pay  him  a 
call  at  his  lodgings  in  London.  Your  great  mind  saw  that 
this  was  natural.  That  call  was  a  relief.  I  came  out 
when  it  was  finished  and  told  somebody  to  look  after 
him,  and  then  took  passage  for  New  York  in  a  vessel  that 
sailed  from  London  on  the  same  day." 

Margaret  and  Rankin  smiled  at  the  grim  way  in  which 
he  spoke  about  the  visit  to  the  tutor. 

"  On  arriving  in  New  York  I  got  a  small  position  in 
a  Wall  Street  broker's  office,  and  learned  the  business. 
From  that  I  went,  with  the  assistance  of  their  recommen- 
dation, into  a  bank.  While  in  this  bank  I  fell  in  with 
some  young  fellows  from  Montreal,  and  afterward  stayed 
with  them  in  Montreal  during  holidays.  They  wanted 
me  to  come  to  that  city,  and  I  liked  the  English  way  of 
the  Canadians,  so  I  came.  On  entering  the  Victoria  Bank 
I  got  good  recommendations  from  the  one  I  had  left. 
From  Montreal  I  was  moved  to  the  head  office,  and  here 
lam." 

There  was  much  to  render  Margaret  thoughtful  in 
this  story  that  Geoffrey  told.     She  was  pleased  to  find 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


235 


that  he  belonged  to  the  English  nobility,  because  it 
seemed  to  assist  her  opinion  when,  with  the  confidence  of 
love,  she  had  placed  him  in  a  nobility  such  as  she  hoped 
could  exist  among  mankind.  Otherwise,  the  fact  that 
there  was  a  title  in  his  family  meant  very  little  to  her. 
Her  own  father's  family  would  have  declined  any  title  in 
England  involving  change  of  name.  What  did  affect  her 
as  a  thinking  woman,  and  one  given  to  the  study  of  nat- 
ural history,  was  the  awful  gap  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house.  Following  so  closely  upon  the  assurance  that  he 
was  well  born,  it  was  a  cruel  wrench.  His  interests  were 
hers  now,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  suffered  jointly — she, 
through  him.  She  felt  that  all  this  bound  them  more  to- 
gether, and  she  did  her  best  to  appear  unconscious  and 

gay. 

He  looked  at  her  when  he  had  finished,  and,  behind 
their  smiles,  each  saw  that  the  other  was  trying  to  make 
the  best  of  things — that  there  was  something  now  between 
them  to  be  feared,  which  might  rise  up  in  the  future  and 
give  them  pain. 


HI-' 


CHAPTER   XVni. 

Tho5«  aggfressive  impulses  inherited  from  the  pre-social  state — those 
tendencies  to  seek  self-satisfaction  regardless  of  injury  to  other  beings, 
which  are  essential  to  a  predatory  life,  constitute  an  anti-social  force,  tend- 
ing ever  to  cause  conflict  and  eventual  separation  of  citizens. — Herbert 
Spencer,  Synthetic  Philosophy. 

Nina  Lindon  had  by  no  means  given  up  the  pulse- 
stirring  and  secret  drives  with  GeofTrey.  The  only  thing 
she  had  given  up  was  saying  to  herself  that  in  the  future  she 
would  not  go  any  more.  The  result  of  this  frequent 
yielding  to  inclination  was  that  she  was  miserable  enough 
when  away  from  him  and  not  particularly  contented  when 


ipp 


236 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


f  •»»• 


«    ,:;.!■* 


::i 


L-  > 


»''*^il!' 


t'l'  "-ii 


with  him.  Between  her  and  Margaret  Mackintosh  a  cool- 
ness had  arisen.  Margaret  was  an  unsuspicious  person, 
but  her  affections  had  developed  her  womanhood,  and  in 
some  mysterious  way  she  had  divined  that  Nina  cared  to 
be  with  Geoffrey  more  than  she  would  confess.  There 
was  no  jealousy  on  Margaret's  side.  She  simply  dropped 
Nina,  and  perhaps  would  have  found  it  hard  to  say  on 
what  grounds.  In  such  matters  women  take  their  impres- 
sions from  such  small  occurrences  that  their  dislikes  often 
seem  more  like  instinct  even  to  themselves. 

As  for  Nina,  she  had  liked  Margaret  only  with  her  bet- 
ter self,  and  now  she  had  become  conscious  of  a  growing 
feeling  of  constraint  when  in  her  presence.  The  increas- 
ing frigidity  with  which  the  taller  beauty  received  her 
seemed  to  afford  ground  for  private  dislike.  She  was  un- 
confessedly  trying  to  bring  herself  to  hate  Margaret,  and 
was  on  the  lookout  for  a  reasonable  cause  to  do  so.  To 
undermine  a  detested  person  treacherously  would  be  far 
more  comfortable  than  undermining  a  friend.  The  diffi- 
culty lay  in  being  unable  to  hate  sufficiently  for  the  hate 
to  become  a  support. 

Later  on  in  June  a  ball  was  given  at  Government 
House.  The  usual  rabble  was  present.  Margaret  did  not 
go,  as  her  father  happened  to  be  ill  at  the  time.  Nina 
was  there  in  full  force.  Geoffrey  appeared  late  in  the 
evening  with  several  others  who  had  been  dining  with  him 
at  the  club.  As  the  host  he  had  been  observing  the  hos- 
pitalities, and  it  took  several  dances  to  bring  his  guests 
down  to  the  comfortable  assurance  that  they  really  had 
their  sea-legs  on.  They  looked  all  right  and  perhaps  felt 
better  than  they  looked ;  but  during  the  first  waltz  or  two 
there  seemed  to  be  unexpected  irregularities  in  the  floor 
that  had  to  be  treated  with  care. 

After  a  few  dances,  which  Geoffrey  found  kept  for  him 
as  usual,  Nina  and  he  disappeared — also  as  usual.    Nina 


t    f 


j.'S 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


237 


was  not  among  the  dissolving  views  who  do  nothing  but 
dissolve.  She  was  fond  of  her  dancing  as  yet,  and,  as  a 
rule,  only  disappeared  once  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 
This  sounds  virtuous,  but  there  is  perhaps  more  safety  in 
a  plurality  of  disappearances. 

The  next  day  she  telegraphed  to  some  friends  in  Mon- 
treal, from  whom  she  had  a  standing  invitation,  that  she 
was  coming  to  see  them.  They  wired  back  that  they  would 
be  charmed  to  see  her.  Then  she  telegraphed  again  :  "  Had 
arranged  to  stop  at  Brockville  on  my  return  from  you,  but 
have  just  heard  that  they  go  away  in  ten  days.  Would  it 
be  all  the  same  if  I  went  to  you  about  Monday  week?" 

The  answer  came  from  Montreal :  "  That  will  suit  us 
very  well — though  we  are  disappointed.  Mind  you  come." 
Then  Nina  wrote  and  posted  to  her  Montreal  girl  friend  a 
note,  in  which  she  said  :  **  If  any  letters  should  come  for 
me  just  keep  them  until  I  arrive.  I  will  go  to  Brockville 
now." 

Jack  Cresswell  saw  her  off  by  the  evening  train,  bought 
her  ticket  to  Montreal,  and  secured  her  compartment  in 
the  sleeper.  Her  two  large  valises  were  carried  into  the 
compartment.  She  said  she  preferred  to  have  her  wearing 
apparel  with  her  and  not  bother  about  baggage-checks. 

When  everything  was  settled  in  the  compartment  she 
said  in  a  worried  nervous  way  to  Jack  :  "And  I  suppose 
you  will  be  wanting  me  to  write  to  you  ? " 

"When  you  get  a  chance,  Nina.  It  is  not  easy,  some- 
times, to  get  away,  at  a  friend's  house,  to  write  letters. 
Don't  write  till  you  feel  like  doing  so  and  get  a  good 
chance." 

This  was  his  kind,  self-controlled  way  of  taking  her 
vexatious  remarks.  But  to-day  it  seemed  as  if  kindness 
was  what  she  least  wished  to  receive  f re  m  him. 

"  If  I  waited  till  1  wished  to  write  to  you  I  don't 
think  I  would  ever  write  again." 


•  I- 


r — ^T 


238 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


-I 


■^    « 


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itm 


ii 


i 


*;  i 


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t  at** 


3, 


■:;| 

fillip 


"  You  don't  quite  mean  that,  Nina.  You  are  worried 
and  anxious  to-night.     It  makes  you  unkind  and  fretful." 

"  Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  Nina.  "  I  think  I  danced 
too  much  last  night.  And  this  stupid  affair  of  ours  wor- 
ries me.  I  want  a  change,  I  am  going  to  have  it. 
No.  I  shall  not  write  for  at  icast  ten  days — perhaps  two 
weeks,  and  you  had  better  think  over  the  advisability  of 
getting  somebody  else  to  wear  down  to  a  shadow  with  a 
lonrr  engagement." 

The  bell  was  ringing  for  departure.  Jack  tried  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  to  excuse  her  inconsiderate  re- 
marks. *'  Remember,"  she  repeated, "  I  shall  not  write  for 
at  least  ten  days,  and  you  had  better  not  write  for  a  week 
or  so  either.     I  want  a  complete  change." 

This  was  so  very  decisive  hat  Jack  could  hardly  re- 
press a  sigh  as  he  rose  am  'd  :  "  Well,  good-by,  old 
lady  ;  I  hope  you  will  have  a  pi^asant  visit." 

As  he  lightly  kissed  her  cheek  she  stood  before  him  as 
inanimate  as  marble.  All  at  once  it  seemed  dreadful  to 
let  him  believe  in  her  so  thoroughly.  A  feeling  of  kind- 
ness toward  him  came  over  her — a  moment  of  remorse — 
remorse  for  everything.  The  train  was  moving  off  now. 
She  suddenly  put  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  burst  into 
tears.  Then  she  pushed  him  away.  *'  Run  quickly  now 
and  get  off.     Go  at  once — " 

"  But  Nina,  darling  what  ts  the  matter? " 

"  Never  mind — run,  or  you'll  be  killed  getting  off.  I'm 
only  worried.  Good-by  !  "  And  she  pushed  him  through 
the  door. 

Nina  continued  her  passage  to  Montreal  as  far  as  Pres- 
cott,  where  she  left  the  train  with  her  luggage,  and  crossed 
the  St.  Lawrence  to  Ogdensburg. 


:4;i 


i-: 


GEOIFREY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


239 


CHAPTER    XIX. 
E'en  now,  throui^h  thee,  my  worst  seems  leu  forlorn.  .  .  . 

When  Jack,  with  the  agility  of  a  railroad  employ^, 
landed  on  his  feet  all  right,  he  stood  watching  the  disap- 
pearing train,  annoyed,  disappointed,  and  mystified.  He 
usually  found  moderate  speech  sufficient  for  daily  use,  and 
as  he  walked  back  slowly  toward  his  club,  all  he  said  was  : 
"Well,  if  all  women  are  like  Nina,  I  doii't  think  I  alto- 
gether understand  them  ! " 

He  felt  lonely  already,  and  for  diversion  bethought  him- 
self of  turning  and  going  down  to  the  Ideal  to  inspect  the 
preparations  for  the  race  to  be  sailed  on  the  following  day. 
There  he  met  Charley  Dusenall,  and  as  the  yacht  gently 
r(  »?  and  fell  on  the  slight  swell  coming  in  from  the  lake, 
the  '  two  Sat  watching  some  of  the  racing  spars  floating 
alongside  and  rolling  about  in  the  wavelets  of  the  evening 
breeze,  soaking  themselves  tough  for  the  coming  contest. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ? "  said  Charley,  noticing 
how  grumpy  and  silent  Jack  was.  "The  old  story,  I  sup- 
pose.    Has  Her  Majesty  gone  back  on  you  again  ? " 

Jack  grunted  assent. 

"Only pro  /em.,  though  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"Oh  yes,  on]y pro  tem.^  of  course,  but  still — " 

"  I  know.  Deuced  unpleasant.  But,  after  all,  what 
does  it  matter  about  a  woman  or  two  when  yc  u  have  got  a 
boat  under  you  that  can  cut  the  eye-teeth  out  of  an  equi- 
noctial and  make  your  soul  dance  the  Highland  fling. 
Bah,  chuck  the  whole  thing  up.  Finish  your  grog  and 
we'll  have  another.     Vive  le  joy,  as  we  say  in  Paris." 

Jack's  face  grew  less  long.  "That's  all  very  well, 
but—" 

"  Rubbish  !  you  want  to  hug  your  melancholy  to  your- 


240 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD, 


'IP 


••I 


-ffi  5'^ ft*., 


'••sill. 


self.  Rats  !  whistle  it  down  the  wind.  D'you  think  I 
don't  know  ?  Look  at  me !  D'you  think  I  haven't  been 
through  the  whole  gamut—  from  Alpha  to  Omaha — with 
all  the  hemidemisemiquavers  thrown  in  ?  Lord,  1  have 
quavered  whole  nights.  And  I  say  that  le  jew  ne  vaut  pas 
the  candle." 

"  You  are  quite  Frenchy  to-night,"  said  Jack,  brighten- 
ing. 

"  I  always  get  more  or  less  Parisian  after  eight  o'clock 
at  night.  Dull  as  a  country  squire  in  the  morning,  though. 
Woke  up  awfully  English  and  moral  to-day.  By  the  way, 
you  had  better  sleep  on  board  to-night,  so  as  to  be  ready 
in  good  time  to-morrow.  And  don't  be  spoiling  your  nerves 
with  the  blues.  I  want  you  to  tool  her  through  to-morrow, 
and  get  over  your  megrims  first.     Remember  this,  that — 

Womankind  more  joy  discovers 
Making  fools  than  keeping  lovers." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  smiled  Jack,  getting  up  as  if 
to  shake  himself  clear  of  his  gloom.     "  And  yet — 

To  be  wroth  with  one  we  love 

Poth  work  like  madness  in  the  brain." 

'*  There  isn't  much  the  matter  with  you,"  said  Charley, 
as  he  saw  Jack  swing  over  the  water  and  make  a  gymnastic 
tour  round  a  backstay.  And  when  the  second  gun  was 
fired  the  next  morning,  and  the  Ideal  was  preening  her 
feathers  as  she  swept  through  a  fleet  of  boats,  there  was 
nothing  very  sad  about  Jack.  When  the  huge  club  top- 
sail, sitting  flat  as  a  board,  caused  her  to  careen  gently  as 
she  zipped  through  the  preliminary  canter,  and  when  in 
the  race  she  drew  out  to  windward,  eating  up  into  the  wind 
every  chance  slant,  Charley  was  watching  how  Jack's  fin- 
ger-tips gently  felt  the  wheel,  and  how  his  eager  eye  took 
in  everything,  from  the  luff  of  the  topsail  to  the  ripples 
on   the  water  or  the  furthest   cloud,  and  he  whispered 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


241 


in  his  ear :  "  What  about  Her  Majesty  just  now,  old 
man  ? " 

Jack  was  too  intent  on  getting  up  into  a  favoring  breath 
of  air  to  answer  ;  but  he  tossed  his  head  to  signify  that  he 
was  all  right,  and  fell  to  marveling  that  he  had  not  thought 
of  Nina  for  a  full  hour. 

In  spite  of  the  yachting,  however,  it  was  difficult  to 
keep  from  being  lonely  at  other  times,  especially  at  the 
chambers,  because  Geoffrey  was  out  of  town,  taking  his 
summer  vacation,  and  Jack  was  forced  to  fly  from  the 
desolation  in  the  city  and  pass  most  of  his  nights  on  the 
Ideal.  This,  with  the  afternoon  sailing  and  a  daily  bulle- 
tin sent  to  Nina,  addressed  to  Montreal,  served  to  help 
him  to  pass  away  the  time  until  the  return  of  Geoffrey, 
who  was  greeted,  as  it  were,  with  open  arms.  Their 
bachelor  quarters  were  very  homelike  and  comfortable. 
The  sitting-room  and  library,  which  they  shared  together, 
always  seemed  a  little  lonely  when  either  of  them  was 
absent. 

Hampstead  was  pleased  to  get  back  to  his  luxurious 
arm-chair  and  magazines.  Jack's  unsuspicious  and  wel- 
coming face  gave  the  place  all  the  restfulness  of  home 
after  a  period  of  more  or  less  watchfulness  against  detec- 
tion. They  stretched  out  their  legs  from  the  arm-chairs 
in  which  they  sat,  and  smoked  and  really  enjoyed  them- 
selves in  the  old  way  among  their  newspapers  and  books. 
After  having  settled  in  New  York,  when  he  first  came  to 
America,  Geoffrey  had  employed  an  old  friend,  on  whose 
secrecy  he  could  rely,  to  call  at  his  father's  house  in 
Shropshire  and  procure  for  him  all  his  old  relics  and  curi- 
osities. These  the  friend  had  sent  out  to  him.  Every 
one  of  them  recalled  some  more  or  less  interesting  mem- 
ory, and  as  they  hung  drying  in  the  dust  that  Mrs.  Priest 
seldom  attempted  to  remove  they  were  like  a  tabular 
index  of  Geoffrey's  wanderings,  on  which  he  could  cast 
x6 


J 


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5 


■■■*«• 


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■Hi 


242 


GEOFFKEY  HAMPSTEAD. 


his  eyes  at  night  and  unconsciously  drop  back  into  the 
past.  There  were  whips,  Tartar  bridles,  Arab  pipes  and 
muskets,'* and  old-fashioned  firearms.  No  less  than  six 
cricket  bats  proclaimed  their  nationality,  as  an  offset 
against  the  stranger  trophies.  There  were  foils  and  masks, 
boxing-gloves,  fishing-rods,  snow-shoes,  old  swords,  and 
any  quantity  of  what  Mrs.  Priest  called  "  rotten  old  truck, 
only  fit  for  a  second-'and  shop."  Besides  all  this,  there 
were  hanging  shelves,  covered  with  cups  and  other  prizes 
that  Geoffrey  and  Jack  had  won  in  athletic  contests.  Even 
the  ceiling  was  made  to  do  duty  in  exhibiting  some  lances 
and  a  central  trophy  composed  of  Zulu  assegais  and 
Malay  arrows  and  such  things.  These,  with  the  large 
bookcases  of  books,  and,  of  course,  Mrs.  Priest,  constituted 
their  Penates. 

Here  Geoffrey  ensconced  himself  for  several  evenings 
after  his  return,  immersed  in  his  books  until  long  after 
Jack  had  knocked  out  his  last  pipe  and  turned  in.  His 
manner  of  taking  his  holidays  had  been  an  episode  which 
was  forgotten  now  if  anything  arose  to  divert  him,  some- 
thing for  him  to  smile  at,  but  powerless  to  distract  his 
attention  from  a  good  article  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

But  he  did  not  visit  Margaret  for  three  or  four  days 
after  his  return.  When  he  saw  her  again,  all  his  better 
nature  came  to  the  fore.  He  delighted  again  in  the 
quiet  worship  he  felt  for  her  now  that  he  could  see  more 
clearly  the  beauties  of  temperate  life.  "  Now,"  he  said,  as 
he  stretched  himself  in  his  arm-chair  one  night,  after  hav- 
ing visited  Margaret  earlier  in  the  evening,  "  now,  I  will 
soon  get  married.  With  Margaret,  goodness  will  not 
only  be  practicable,  but,  I  can  imagine,  even  enjoyable." 
Then,  after  a  while,  his  mind  recurred  to  his  holidays, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  a  long  time  ago.  He  yawned 
over  the  subject,  and  thought  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed. 
"  Heigh-ho !      I   have   exhausted  the   devil   and   all  his 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


243 


works  now.  He  hac  jrot  nothing  more  to  offer  me  that  I 
care  to  accept.  Now  I  have  done  with  risks  and  worries. 
If  I  can  only  get  my  money  affairs  straightened  out  I'll 
get  married  in  September  Federal  stock  is  bound  to 
rise,  with  the  new  changes  in  the  bank,  and  then  I'll  be 
all  right.  I'll  just  let  Lewis  have  my  horse  and  trap. 
He'll  give  me  more  than  I  paid  for  them.  The  seven 
hundred  will  wipe  out  a  few  things,  and  then  if  I  can 
turn  myself  round  again,  I'll  get  married  at  once." 

For  several  days  after  this  he  saw  Margaret ;  and  the 
more  he  saw  of  her  the  more  he  really  longed  for  the  life 
that  seemed  best.  He  was  tired  of  plot  and  counterplot. 
As  one  whose  intellect  was  generally  a  discerning  one,  when 
not  clouded  by  exciting  vagaries,  he  had  had,  all  his  life, 
the  idea  of  enjoying  goodness  for  itself — at  some  time  or 
other.  And  entering  Margaret's  presence  seemed  like 
going  to  a  pure  spring  fountain  from  which  he  came  away 
refreshed.  She  had  the  quick  brain  that  could  skim  off 
the  best  of  his  thought  and  whip  it  up  and  present  it  in 
a  changed  and  perhaps  more  pleasing  form.  Even  the 
look  of  her  hands,  the  way  she  held  up  cut  flowers,  and 
delighted  in  their  faintest  odors  (to  him  quite  impercep- 
tible) showed  how  much  keener  and  more  refined  her  sen- 
sibilities were  than  his  own  and  made  him  marvel  to  find 
that  in  some  respects  she  lived  in  a  world  wherein  it  was 
a  physical  impossibility  for  him  to  enter.  As  the  days 
wore  on  in  which  he  daily  saw  her,  he  found  himself  mak- 
ing little  sacrifices  for  her  sake,  and  even  practicing  a  trifle 
of  self-denial.  He  did  things  that  he  knew  would  please 
her,  and  afterward  he  felt  all  the  healthy  glow  and  ability 
for  virtue  which  are  the  essences  that  gracious  deeds  distill. 
"Doing  these  things  makes  me  better."  he  said.  "This 
moral  happiness  is  a  thing  to  be  worked  up.  I  can  not 
cultivate  goodness  in  the  abstract.  I  must  have  some- 
thing tangible — something  to  understand ;  and   if    good 


*  '1 


iw 


244 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


It    1 


Ike 


'    'M  J 


4/'' 


deeds  pay  me  back  in  this  sort  of  way  I  may  yet  be- 
come, partly  through  my  deeds,  what  she  would  wish 
me  to  be." 

Full  of  all  this,  while  ruminating  late  one  night,  he 
took  it  into  his  head  to  put  it  into  verse,  and  he  rather 
liked  the  simple  lines. 

TO  MARGARET. 

I. 

My  Love  !     I  would  Love's  true  disciple  be, 

That,  'neath  the  king  of  teachers'  gracious  art, 
Refined  sense  and  thought  might  be  to  me 

The  stepping-stones  to  lead  me  to  thy  heart ; 
That  thine  own  realm  of  peace  I  too  might  share, 

Where  Nature's  smallest  things  show  much  design 
To  teach  kind  thoughts  for  all  that  breathe  ;  and  where, 

As  music's  laws  compel  by  rule  divine, 
Naught  but  obeying  good  gives  joy  and  rest ; 

Where  thou  can'st  note  the  immaterial  scent 
Of  thought  and  thing,  which  we  gross  men  at  best 

Can  hardly  know,  with  senses  often  lent 
To  heavy  joys  that  leave  us  but  to  long 

For  that  unknown  which  makes  thyself  a  song. 

II 

From  gracious  deeds  exhale  the  perfumes  rare 

Of  active  rest,  glad  care,  and  hopeful  trust 
The  soul  snuffs  these,  well  pleased,  and  seems  to  share, 

For  once,  a  joy  in  concord  with  the  dust. 
Thus  simple  deeds,  through  Love,  make  known  th*  unknown— 

That  immaterial  most  substantial  gain 
Which  makes  of  earth  a  heaven  all  its  own. 

And  claims  from  spirit-land  no  sweeter  reign. 
So,  while  I  learn  in  thine  own  atmosphere 

To  live,  guard  thou  with  patience  all  my  ways, 
For  chance  compels  when  weakness  rules,  and  fear 

Of  self  brings  blackest  night  unto  my  days  ; 
E'en  now,  through  thee,  my  worst  seems  less  forlorn, 

And  darkness  breaks  before  the  blushing  morn. 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


245 


He  wondered  that  the  word  "  soul "  had  as  yet  no  syn- 
onym to  express  what  he  meant  without,  as  he  said,  "  bor- 
rowing the  language  of  superstition."  For  this  he  claimed 
poetical  license.  He  was  amused  at  the  similarity  of  his 
verse  to  some  kind  of  religious  prayer  or  praise.  "  Per- 
haps," he  said,  "  all  loves,  when  sufficiently  refined,  have 
only  one  language — whether  the  aspirations  be  addressed 
to  Chemosh  or  Dagon  or  Mary  or  Jahveh,  or  to  the  woman 
who  embodies  all  one  knows  of  good.  But  perhaps,  more 
likely,  the  song  that  perfect  love  sings  in  the  heart  has  no 
possible  language,  but  is  part  of  '  the  choir  invisible  whose 
music  is  the  gladness  of  the  world,'  and  to  which  we  have 
all  been  trying  to  put  words,  in  religions  and  poems. 

"  In  twenty  thousand  years  from  now,"  he  said,  smiling, 
"  archaeologists  will  be  fighting  over  a  discussion  as  to 
whether,  in  these  early  days,  any  superstition  still  existed. 
Just  before  they  come  to  blows  over  the  matter  my  son- 
nets will  be  found,  produced,  and  deciphered,  and  there 
will  be  rejoicing  on  one  side  to  have  it  proved  that  at  a 
certain  time  Anno  Domini  (an  era  supposed  to  refer  to 
one  Abraham  or  Buddha)  man  still  claimed  that  a  local 
god  existed  called  *  Margaret,'  who  was  evidently  wor- 
shiped with  fervor. 

"  But  certainly,"  he  added,  as  he  read  the  sonnet  for 
the  third  time,  "  their  mistake  will  not  be  such  a  palpable 
one  as  that  about  the  Song  of  Solomon." 


'11 


m 


246 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


h  -'»•• 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Never  but  once  to  meet  on  earth  again  I 

She  heard  me  as  I  fled— her  eager  tone 

Sank  on  my  heart,  and  almost  wove  a  chain 

Around  my  will  to  link  it  with  her  own, 

So  that  my  stern  resolve  was  almost  gone. 

•'  I  can  not  reach  thee  1  whither  dost  thou  fly  ? 

"  My  steps  are  faint.    Come  back,  thou  dearest  one  I 

"  Return,  ah  me  I  return  ! " — The  wind  passed  by 

On  which  those  accents  died,  faint,  far,  and  lingeringly. 

Shelley,  TAe  Revolt  0/ Islam, 

After  a  prolonged  visit  in  Montreal,  Nina  had  been 
back  in  Toronto  for  a  short  time,  during  which  she  had 
seen  no  one  except  Jack,  whose  two  visits  she  had  ren- 
dered so  unpleasant  that  he  felt  inclined  to  do  anything 
from  hara-kari  to  marrying  somebody  else. 

At  this  time  Geoffrey  received  a  note  one  morning 
addressed  in  Nina's  handwriting.  He  turned  pale  as  he 
tore  it  open  : 

"  Dear  Mr.  Hampstead  :  I  wish  to  see  you  for  a  mo- 
ment this  afternoon.  If  not  too  much  trouble,  would  you 
call  here  at  five  o'clock  ?  Yours  sincerely, 

"MossBANK,  Tuesday,  Nina  Lindon." 

There  was  nothing  very  exciting  on  the  face  of  this 
line,  nothing  to  create  wrath.  Yet  Geoffrey  tore  it  into 
shreds  as  if  it  had  struck  him  a  blow  and  was  dan- 
gerous. 

When  he  was  shown  into  the  drawing-room  at  Moss- 
bank  that  afternoon,  he  was  stepping  forward  with  court- 
eous demeanor  and  a  faint  "  company  smile  "  on  his  face, 
ready  to  look  placidly  and  innocently  upon  any  people 
who  might  be  calling  at  the  time.  He  passed  noiselessly 
over  the  thick  carpets  toward  the  place  where  Nina  was 


o;iOFFREY   pAMPSTEAD. 


247 


sitting,  seeing  quickly  that  there  was  nobody  else  in  the 
room,  but  aware  that  the  servant  was  probably  at  the 
door. 

"How-de-do,  Miss  Lindon?"  he  said  aloud,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  inquisitive.  "  So  you  have  come  back  to 
Toronto  at  last?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Nina,  also  with  an  engaging  smile.  "  And 
how  have  you  been  since  I  saw  you  last  ?  "  There  was  a 
charming  inflection  in  her  "  company  voice  "  as  she  said 
these  words.  Then,  raising  her  tone  a  little,  she  said 
"  Howard." 

The  servant  outside  the  door  took  several  steps  in  a 
circle  on  the  tesselated  pavement  of  the  hall  to  intimate 
that  he  approached  from  afar  and  then  appeared. 

"Shut  the  door,  please,  Howard,"  said  Nina  softly. 
The  man  obliterated  himself. 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone  the  heavenly  sweetness  of 
the  caller  and  the  called  upon  vanished.  Geoffrey's  face 
became  grave  and  his  eyes  penetrating.  He  went  toward 
her  and  took  her  hand  in  an  effort  to  be  kind,  while 
he  looked  at  her  searchingly  with  a  pale  face.  Nina 
looked  weary  and  anxious.  Neither  of  them  spoke  for  a 
while.  As  Geoffrey  regarded  her,  she  turned  to  him  be- 
seechingly with  both  anxiety  and  affection  in  her  expres- 
sion. What  he  interpreted  from  the  unhappiness  of  her 
visage  was  more  than  sufficient  to  disturb  his  equanimity. 
He  got  up  and  walked  silently  and  quickly  twice  back- 
ward and  forward.  During  this  moment  his  mind  appar- 
ently made  itself  up  on  some  point  finally,  for,  as  he  sat 
down  as  abruptly  as  he  had  risen,  the  tension  of  his  face 
gave  place  to  something  more  like  nonchalance  and  kind- 
ness. 

"  You  have  something  to  tell  me  ?  "  he  said,  in  tones 
that  endeavored  to  be  kind. 

Nina's  face — sad,  sorrowful,  and  tearful — bent  itself 


,;.!«;■ 


.L.;'    ' 


'l '  1 
1 

i 

T 


248 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


If  -'1 


ml 


;•"*• 


m 


?--'W''V' 


;J4.,K 


low  that  she  might  hide  it  from  his  sight.  "  Yes,"  she 
managed  to  say  at  last,  almost  inaudibly. 

Geoffrey  endeavored  to  assist  her.  "  Don't  say  any 
more,"  said  he.     '*  Bad  news,  I  suppose  ?  " 

**The  very  worst,"  cried  Nina,  starting  up,  her  eyes 
dilating  wildly  and  despairingly  with  a  sudden  accession 
of  fear. 

"  Hush,  hush  !  "  said  Geoffrey,  laying  his  hand  sooth- 
ingly and  kindly  on  her  arm.  "  You  must  not  give  way 
like  that.  You  must  control  yourself.  We  have  both  of 
us  too  much  at  stake  to  tell  our  story  to  every  one  who 
likes  to  listen.  Come  and  let  us  sit  down  and  talk  things 
over  sensibly." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  look,  half  reproach,  as  if  to  say, 
"  It  is  easy  for  you  to  be  calm."  But  she  sat  down  beside 
him,  holding  his  coat-sleeve  with  both  hands — hardly  know- 
ing what  she  did. 

Hampstead  leaned  back,  crossed  his  long  legs  in 
front  of  him,  and  counted  the  eyelet  holes  in  his  boot. 
Then  he  took  her  hand,  in  order  to  appear  kind  and  to 
deal  with  the  matter  in  an  off-hand  way. 

"As  Thackeray  says,  Nina,  *  truly,  friend,  life  is  strewn 
with  orange-peel.'  Now  and  then  we  get  a  bad  tumble ;  but 
we  always  get  up  again.  And  I  don't  think  that  we  ought 
to  allow  ourselves  to  be  counted  among  those  weak  creat- 
ures who  most  complain  of  the  strength  of  a  temptation 
that  takes  at  least  aryear  to  work  up.  After  all,  there  is 
no  denying  Rochefoucauld's  wisdom  when  he  said  :  *  C'est 
une  esp^ce  de  bonheur  de  connaitre  jusques  k  quel  point 
on  doit  etre  malheureux.'  I  have  been  in  a  good  many 
worries  one  way  or  another,  and  I  always  got  out  of  them. 
We  will  get  out  of  this  one  all  right,  so  cheer  up  and  take 
heart." 

"  I  don't  see  how,"  said  Nina,  turning  her  head  away 
and  feeling  a  sudden  hope.     What  was  he  going  to  say  ? 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


249 


Then  she  recollected  that  she  had  lavished  a  small  income 
on  a  dress  especially  for  this  interview.  Perhaps  if  he 
had  an  idea  worth  the  hearing  the  dress  might  help  it  out. 
She  arose,  as  if  absently,  and  walked  to  the  side  window 
and  rested  her  elbows  against  the  sash  in  front  of  her. 
The  attitude  was  graceful.  As  she  turned  half  over  her 
shoulder  to  look  back  at  him  she  could  hardly  have  ap- 
peared to  better  advantage.  Her  dress  was  really  magnifi- 
cent, and  it  fitted  a  form  that  was  ideal.  In  spite  of  his 
late  resolutions,  Geoffrey  was  affected  by  the  cunningly 
devised  snare.  A  quick  thought  came  through  his  head, 
which  he  banished  about  as  quickly  as  it  came. 

"  Well,  of  course,  there  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done," 
said  he  decisively,  in  a  tone  which  told  her  that  so  far  she 
had  failed. 

"  What  is  that,  dear  Geoffrey  ?  Do  tell  me,  for  I  am 
very,  very  miserable.  And  say  it  kindly,  Geoffrey.  Don't 
be  too  hard  with  me  now." 

As  she  said  this  she  swept  toward  him.  She  sank 
down  beside  him  and  kissed  him,  and  looked  up  into 
his  face.  Again  the  thought  came  to  him.  Here  were 
riches.  Here  was  a  woman  whose  beauty  was  talked 
about  in  every  city  in  Canada,  who  could  be  his  pride, 
who  cared  for  him  despairingly.  If  he  wished,  this  man- 
sion and  wealth  could  be  his.  The  delicate  perfumes 
about  her  seemed  to  steal  into  his  brain  and  affect  his 
thought. 

An  hour  ago  his  resolves  for  himself  had  appeared  so 
unchangeable  that  they  seemed  of  themselves  to  prop  him 
up.  And  now  he  found  himself  trying,  with  a  brain  that 
refused  to  assist  him,  to  prop  up  his  resolutions,  trying  to 
remember  what  their  best  merits  had  been.  One  glim- 
mer of  an  idea  was  left  in  him — a  purpose  to  preserve  his 
fealty  to  Margaret,  and  he  thought  that,  if  he  could  only 
get  away  for  a  moment  to  think  quietly,  he  might  remem- 


Tnr 


n^ 
J 


'■•••i'. 


250 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


ber  what  the  best  points  of  his  resolutions  had  been.  The 
perfumes,  the  beauty,  the  wealth,  the  liking  he  felt  for 
her,  the  duty  he  owed  to  her,  and  perhaps  her  concentra- 
tion upon  what  she  desired — all  conspired  against  him. 
But,  with  this  part  of  an  idea  left  to  him,  he  succeeded  in 
being  able  slightly  to  turn  his  head  away. 

When  she  asked  him  again  what  was  to  be  done  there 
was  an  unreal  decisiveness  in  his  voice  as  he  said : 

"  Of  course,  the  only  thing  to  be  done  is  for  you  to 
immediately  marry  Jack." 

She  sprang  from  him  as  if  he  had  stabbed  her.  She 
was  furious  with  disappointment. 

"  I  will  never  marry  Jack  !  What  a  dishonorable  thing 
to  propose ! " 

The  idea  of  dishonor  to  Jack  seemed,  for  the  first 
time,  quite  an  argument.  When  the  ethics  of  a  matter 
can  be  utilized  they  suddenly  seem  cogent. 

"Very  well,"  said  Geoffrey,  shrugging  his  shoulders 
and  rising  as  if  to  go  away.  "  My  idea  was  *  any  port  in 
a  storm ' — a  poor  idea,  perhaps,  and  certainly,  as  you  say, 
entirely  dishonorable,  but  still  feasible.  Of  course,  if  you 
have  made  up  your  mind  not  to  marry  him,  we  may  as 
well  consider  the  interview  as  ended.  I'm  afraid  I  have 
nothing  more  to  suggest." 

He  did  not  intend  to  go  away,  but  he  held  out  his 
hand  as  if  about  to  say  good-by.  She  stood  half  turned 
away  trying  to  think.  The  idea  of  his  leaving  her  to  her 
trouble  dazed  her.  She  was  terrified  to  realize  that  she 
would  be  without  help. 

"  Oh,  how  cruel  you  are  !  " 

She  almost  groaned  as  she  spoke.  She  was  in  despair. 
She  put  her  hands  to  her  head  hopelessly,  her  eyes 
dilated  with  trouble. 

"  Don't  go  yet,  Geoffrey."  Then  she  tried  to  nerve 
herself  for  what  she  had  to  say.     After  a  pause :  "  Geof- 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


251 


frey,  I  can  say  things  to  you  now,  that  I  could  never  have 
said  before.  I  must  speak  to  you  fully  before  you  go.  I 
must  leave  no  stone  unturned.  There  is  no  one  to  help 
me,  so  I  must  look  after  myself  in  what  must  be  said.  I 
went  away  with  you,  Geoffrey,  because  I  loved  you."  She 
bit  her  lips  to  stay  her  tears  and  stopped  to  regain  a  des- 
perate fortitude.  "  I  cared  for  you  so  much  that  being 
with  you  seemed  right — nay  more,  sacred.  Oh,  it  drags 
me  to  the  dust  to  speak  in  this  way  !  But  I  must.  Does 
not  my  ruin  give  me  a  right  to  speak  }  The  question  of  a 
girl's  reticence  must  be  put  away.  I  am  forced  to  do  the 
best  I  can  for  myself.  And  now  I  say,  will  you  stand  by 
me  ? "  Her  head  drooped  and  her  hands  hung  down  by 
her  side  with  shame  at  the  position  she  forced  herself  to 
take  when  she  added  :  "  Will  you  do  me  justice,  Geoffrey  ? 
Will  you  marry  me  ? " 

Hampstead  was  about  to  speak,  but  she  knew  at  once 
that  she  had  asked  too  much,  and  she  continued  more 
quickly  and  more  despairingly  :  "  Nay,  I  won't  ask  so 
much.  I  only  ask  you  to  take  me  away.  I  am  distracted. 
I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  will  do  anything.  I  will  be 
your  slave.  You  need  not  marry  me — only  take  me  away 
and  hide  me  —  somewhere — anywhere  —  for  God's  sake, 
Geoffrey,  from  my  shame — from  my  disgrace." 

She  was  on  her  knees  before  him  as  she  said  these  last 
words.  If  our  pleasure-loving  acquaintance  could  have 
changed  places  with  a  galley-slave  at  that  moment  he 
would  have  done  so  gladly. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  endeavor  to  quiet  the 
wildness  of  her  despair.  To  be  surprised  by  any  person 
with  her  on  her  knees  before  him  in  an  agony  of  tears 
would  be  a  circumstance  difificult  to  explain  away. 

As  soon  as  he  began  to  talk,  it  seemed  to  him  a  most 
dastardly  thing  to  sacrifice  Margaret's  life  now  to  conceal 
his  own  wrong-doing.     In  the  light  of  this  idea,  Nina's 


252 


GKOFFRKY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


1.3 


■^ 


:& 


wealth  and  beauty  suddenly  became  tawdry.  Margaret's 
nobility  and  happiness  suddenly  seemed  worth  dying  for. 
They  must  not  be  wrecked  in  a  moment  of  weakness.  As 
if  dispassionately,  he  laid  before  Nina  the  history  of  their 
acquaintance,  and  also  his  'other  obligations  Really,  it 
place  1  him  in  a  very  awkward,  not  to  say  absurd,  position. 
He  wished  to  do  what  was  right,  but  did  not  see  his  way 
at  all  clear  The  only  way  was  to  efface  himself  entirely, 
and  consider  only  what  was  due  to  others.  Before  the 
world  he  was  engaged  to  Margaret,  and  had  been  so  all 
along.  She  had  his  word  that  he  would  marry  her.  If  it 
were  only  *'  his  word  "  that  had  to  be  broken,  that  might 
be  done.  But  was  the  happiness  of  Margaret's  life  to  be 
cast  aside  ?  Which,  of  the  two,  was  the  more  innocent — 
which,  of  the  two,  hav.^  the  better  right  or  duty  to  bear 
the  brunt  of  the  disaster  ? 

The  way  he  effaced  his  own  personality  in  this  dis- 
course was  almost  picturesque.  Justice  blindfold,  with 
impartial  scales  in  her  hand,  was  nothing  to  him. 

Nina  said  no  word  from  beginning  to  end.  All  she 
heard  in  the  discourse  was  something  to  show  her  more 
and  more  that  what  she  wished  must  be  given  up.  It  was 
something  to  know  that  at  least  she  h  .!  tried  every  means 
in  her  power  to  move  him — feelinr:  that  she  had  a  help- 
less woman's  right  to  do  s*"  A'^l  as  the  deep,  kindly 
tones  went  on  they  r     u  ^  gradually  compelled 

her  tacitly  and  wer    ty  a  suggestion,  while  his 

ingenuity  showed  the        aoua  path  that  lay  before 

her. 

At  the  same  time,  in  spite  of  all  his  argi  -nents  and  her 
own  resolutions,  she  could  not  clearly  see  ly  she  should 
be  the  one  to  suffer  instead  of  Margaret  Margaret  had 
so  much  more  strength  of  character  to  >  ist  her.  The 
ability  to  bear  up  under  sorrow  and  trou  le  was  a  virtue 
she  was  ready  to  acknowledge  to  be  weaker  in  herself 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


253 


than  in  others.  The  confession  of  this  weakness,  through 
self-pity,  seemed  half  a  virtue,  even  though  only  made  to 
insist  upon  compensations. 


The  next  day,  Jack  called  by  appointment. 

"  I  thought  I  would  just  send  for  you,  Jack,"  said 
Nina,  looking  half  angry  and  half  smiling.  "  I  felt  as  if 
1  wanted  to  give  trouble  to  somebody,  and  1  thought  you 
were  the  most  available  person." 

"Go  ahead,  then,  old  lady.  I  can  stand  it.  There 
is  nothing  a  fellow  may  not  become  accustomed  to." 

Jack  seated  himself  in  one  of  Nina's  new  easy-chairs 
which  yielded  to  his  weight  so  luxuriously  that  he  thought 
he  would  like  to  get  one  like  it.  He  felt  the  softness  of 
the  long  arms  of  the  chair,  and  then,  regaining  his  feet, 
turned  it  round. 

"That's  a  nice  chair,  Nina.  How  much  did  it  put  the 
old  man  back  ?  " 

Nina  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"Cost — you  know.  How  much  did  it  spoil  the  old 
man?" 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  He  bought  it  in  New  York  with  a 
lot  of  things.  Do  you  suppose  I  keep  an  inventory  of 
prices  to  assist  me  in  conversation  ?" 

"  I  wish  you  did.  I'd  like  to  get  one.  But  I  don't 
know.  When  we  get  married  you  can  hand  it  out  the 
back  gate  to  me,  you  know,  and  then  we'll  be  one  chair 
ahead — and  a  good  one,  too." 

"  I  do  wish  you  would  leave  off  referring  to  getting 
married,"  said  Nina.  And  then,  "  By  the  way,  that  is 
what  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about — " 

Jack  smiled.  "  Be  careful,"  he  said.  "  Don't  set  me 
a  bad  example  by  referring  to  the  subject  yourself." 

"  Well,  I  will,  for  a  change.  I  have  been  making  up 
my  mind  to  end  this  way  of  dragging  on  existence.     This 


■^ 


254 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


<<i»«4 


'•'1 


*»•     'mm 


sort  of  neither-one-thing-nor-the-other  has  got  to  end.  It 
wearies  me.  I  am  not  half  as  strong  as  I  was.  I  went 
away  to  pick  up,  and  now  I  am  no  better." 

"  And  how  do  you  propose  to  end  it  ? "  Jack  was  sur- 
prised at  the  decision  in  her  voice. 

**  I  propose  to  break  it  off  all  together,"  said  she 
firmly. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jack,  **  there  is  no  other  alternative 
for  you  but  marriage." 

Nina  was  startled  at  first  by  these  words.  But  he  had 
only  spoken  them  casually. 

"  Certainly.  A  break  off  or  marriage  are  the  only 
alternatives.  Going  on  like  this  is  what  I  will  not  stand 
any  longer." 

Jack  was  shaking  in  his  shoes  for  fear  this  was  the 
last  of  him.  He  controlled  his  anxiety,  though,  and  shut- 
ting his  ey^s,  he  leaned  back,  supinely,  as  if  he  knew  that 
what  he  said  did  not  matter  much.  She  would  do  as  she 
liked — no  question  about  that ! 

"  I  have,  I  think,  at  some  previous  time,"  said  he,  from 
the  recesses  of  the  chair  where  he  was  calmly  judicial 
with  his  eyes  shut,  "advocated  the  desirability  of  mar- 
riage. I  think  I  have  mentioned  the  subject  before.  Of 
course,  this  is  only  an  opinion,  and  not  entitled,  perhaps,  to 
a  great  deal  of  weight." 

Nina  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  was  annoyed  that 
Jack  was  not  sufficiently  ardent.  The  unfortunate  young 
man  had  had  cold  water  thrown  over  him  coo  many  times. 
He  was  getting  wise.  To-day  he  was  keeping  out  of 
range.  Nina  had  been  decidedly  eccentric  lately  anc' 
might  give  him  his  co/i^^  at  any  moment.  She  was  evi- 
dently in  a  queer  mood  still,  and,  to-day.  Jack  would 
give  her  no  chance  to  gird  at  him. 

This  well- trained  care  on  his  part  bid  fair  to  make 
things  awkward.     She  saw  that  it  had  become  necessary 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


255 


end.     It 
I  went 

was  sur- 

said  she 

ernative 

t  he  had 

he  only 
ot  stand 

was  the 
id  shut- 
lew  that 
5  as  she 

(le,  from 
judicial 
of  mar- 
re.  Of 
haps,  to 

ed  that 
2  young 
y  times, 
out  of 
ly  anc^ 
as  evi- 
would 

5  make 
cessary 


to  draw  him  out,  and  with  this  object  in  view  she  asked 
carelessly,  as  if  she  had  been  absent-minded  and  had  not 
heard  him : 

"  What  did  you  say  then.  Jack  ?  " 

"  I  was  merely  hinting,  delicately,  as  an  outsider  might, 
that,  of  the  two  important  alternatives,  marriage  seems  to 
offer  you  a  greater  scope  for  breaking  up  the  ennui  of  a 
single  life  that  a  mere  change  from  one  form  of  single  life 
to  another." 

Jack  did  not  see  the  bait  she  was  holding  out.  He 
would  not  rise  to  it.  Really,  it  was  maddening  to  have  to 
lead  Jack  on.     He  had  been  "  trained  down  too  fine." 

"Well,  for  my  part,"  she  said  laughingly,  with  her 
cheek  laid  against  the  soft  plush  of  the  sofa,  "  I  don't 
feem  to  care  now  which  of  the  alternatives  is  adopted." 

Jack  remained  quiet  when  he  heard  this,.  Then  he 
said  coolly  :  "  If  I  were  not  a  wise  man,  that  speech  of 
yours  would  unduly  excite  me.  But  you  said  you  wanted 
some  one  to  annoy,  and  I  won't  give  you  a  chance.  If  I 
took  the  advantage  of  the  possibilities  in  your  words  we 
would  certainly  have  a  row.  No,  old  lady,  you  are  set- 
ting a  trap  for  me,  in  order  that  you  may  scold  afterward. 
You  like  having  a  row  with  me,  but  you  can't  have  one 
to-day.     *  Burnt  child  ' — you  know."  • 

What  could  be  more  provoking  than  this.  Nina,  in 
spite  of  her  troubles,  saw  the  absurdity  of  her  position, 
and  laughed  into  the  plush.  But  her  patience  was  at  an 
end.     She  sat  upright  again  and  said  vehemently  : 

"  Jack  Cress  well,  you  are  a  born  fool  !  " 

He  looked  up  himself,  then,  from  the  chair.  There 
was  an  expression  in  Nina's  face  that  he  had  not  seen  for 
a  long  time — a  consenting  and  kind  look  in  her  eyes.  He 
got  up,  slowly,  without  any  haste,  still  doubtful  of  the 
situation;  and  as  he  came  toward  her  his  breath  grew 
shorter.     "  I  believe  I  am  a  fool,  but  I  could  not  believe 


TTTT 


256 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


f   ,<,::?: 


what  I  wished.     Is  it  true,  Nina,  that  you  will  take  me  at 
last  ?  " 

"  Listen !  Come  and  sit  down,  boy,  ...id  behave  your- 
self." 

Jack  obeyed  mechanically. 

She  turned  around  to  face  him,  while  she  commanded 
his  obedience  and  gave  her  directions  with  finger  up- 
raised, as  if  she  were  teaching  a  dog  to  sit  up. 

"  To-morrow  you  will  call  upon  my  father  at  his  office 
and  ask  his  consent  to  our  immediate  marriage." 

"Tell  me  to  do  something  hard,  Nina.  I  feel  rather 
cooped  up,  just  now.  I  could  spring  over  that  chandelier. 
I  don't  mind  tackling  the  old  man — that's  nothing. 
Haven't  you  got  soine  lions'  dens  that  want  looking 
after  ? " 

"  You'll  feel  tired  enough  when  you  come  out  of  fath- 
er's den,  I'll  warrant." 

"  I  dare  say.     What  if  he  refuses  ? " 

"  Jack,"  said  Nina,  "  I  am  an  heiress.  I  dictate  to 
every  man  but  my  father.  I  have  always  had  my  own 
way,  and  always  mean  to  have  it.  So,  beware  !  But  I 
don't  care,  now,  whether  he  refuses  or  not.  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  this  long  engagement  that 
worried  me,  and  I  am  going  to  end  it  in  short  order.  I 
am  getting  as  thin  as  a  scarecrow.  My  bones  are  coming 
through  my  dress."  Nina  felt  the  top  of  one  superbly 
rounded  arm  and  declared  she  could  feel  her  collar-bone 
coming  through  in  that  improbable  place.  "  No,  I  don't 
care  whether  he  refuses  or  not.  I  am  going  to  marry 
you,  Jack,  before  the  end  of  the  week." 

Next  day  Jack  found  himself  not  quite  so  brave  as  he 
thought  he  would  be  on  entering  Mr.  Joseph  Lindon's 
office.  He  was  ushered  into  a  rather  shabby  little  back 
room,  which  the  millionaire  thought  was  quite  good  enough 
for  him.     He  took  a  pride  in  its  shabbiness.     Joseph  Lin- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


257 


don,  he  said,  did  not  have  to  impress  people  with  brass 
and  Brussels.  There  was  more  solid  monetary  credit  in  his 
threadbare  carpet  than  in  all  the  plate  glass  and  gilt  of 
any  other  establishment  in  the  city. 

Cresswell  paused  on  the  threshold  as  he  entered,  and 
then,  feeling  glad  that  nobody  else  was  in  the  room,  ad- 
vanced toward  Mr.  Lindon.  Lindon  saw  him  ont  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye  as  he  came  in,  and  a  saturnine  smile  re- 
laxed his  face  while  he  completed  a  sentence  in  a  letter 
which  he  was  writing. 

*'  Good  morning.  Jack."  he  said  briskly.  "  Come  at 
last,  have  you  ? " 

This  was  rather  disconcerting,  but  Jack  replied  :  "  Yes, 
and  you  evidently  know  why."  He  said  this  cheerfully 
and  with  considerable  spirit,  but  Mr.  Lindon's  next  remark 
was  a  little  chilling. 

"  Just  so.  I  was  afraid  you  would  come  some  day. 
Let  us  cut  it  short,  my  boy.  1  have  a  board  meeting  in 
ten  minutes." 

"  Well,  you  know  all  I've  got  to  say.  Now,  what  do 
you  say  ? " 

This  was  a  happy  abruptness  on  Jack's  part,  and  Lin- 
don rather  liked  him  for  it.  It  seemed  business  like.  It 
seemed  as  if  Jack  thought  too  highly  of  Mr.  Lindon's  sa- 
gacity to  indulge  in  any  persuasion  or  argument.  He  lay 
back  in  his  chair  with  an  amused  look. 

"  Why,  dammit,  boy,  she's  not  in  love  with  you." 

Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled — as  if  that  was 
a  point  on  which  modesty  compelled  him  to  be  silent. 
But  his  individuality  asserted  itself. 

"  Is  that  all  the  objection  ?  " 

Evidently,  abruptness  and  speaking  to  the  point  were 
preferred  in  this  office,  and  Jack  was  prepared  to  give 
the  millionaire  all  the  abruptness  he  wanted. 

*'  No,"  said  Lindon.     "  Of  course,  that  is  not  all.     But 
17 


TIf 


IF 


258 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


I  know,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  my  daughter  does  not  care 
a  pin  about  you.  Don't  think  I  have  been  making  money 
all  my  life.  I  can  tell  when  a  woman  is  in  love  as  well  as 
any  man.  I  have  watched  Nina  myself  when  you  were 
with  her,  and  I  tell  you  she  does  not  care  half  enough  for 
you  to  marry  you." 

**  She  says  she  does,"  said  Jack,  determined  not  to  be 
browbeaten  by  this  man's  force. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  if  she  does  say  so.  I 
was  afraid,  at  one  time,  that  she  was  going  to  make  a 
goose  of  herself  with  you,  and  I  waltzed  her  off  to  the 
Continent.  But  after  she  came  back  I  thoroughly  satisfied 
myself  that  she  was  in  no  danger,  or  else,  my  boy,  you 
would  not  have  had  the  run  of  my  house  as  you  have  had. 
Under  the  circumstances.  Jack,  I  was  always  glad  to  see 
you,  since  we  came  back  last,  and  hope  to  see  you  always, 
just  the  same.  Quite  apart,  however,  from  anything  she 
may  say  or  consent  to,  I  have  other  plans  for  my  daughter. 
I  have  no  son  to  carry  on  the  name,  but  my  daughter's 
marriage  will  be  a  grand  one.  With  her  beauty  and  my 
money,  she  will  make  the  biggest  match  of  the  day.  I  did 
not  start  with  much  of  a  family  myself,  but  I  can  control 
family.  V/hen  Nina  marries,  sir,  she  marries  blood  ;  noth- 
ing less  than  a  dook,  sir, — nothing  less  than  a  dook  will 
satisfy  me.     And  I'll  have  a  dook,  sir;  mark  my  words  1  " 

When  his  ambition  was  aroused,  Mr.  Lindon  sometimes 
^everted  to  the  more  marked  vulgarity  of  forty  years  ago. 

Jack  arose.  The  interview  was  ended  as  far  as  he  was 
concerned. 

Lindon  felt  kindly  toward  him.  He  was  one  of  the 
few  young  men  who  were  not  overawed  by  his  money  and 
obsequious  on  account  of  his  wine. 

"  Well,  good-by,"  he  said.  "  Don't  let  this  make  any 
interruption  in  your  visits  to  Mossbank.  You'll  always 
find  a  good  glass  of  wine  ready  for  you  with  Joseph  Lin- 


-.  M 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


259 


don.  I  rather  like  you,  Jack,  and  if  you  ever  want  any 
backing,  just  let  me  know.  But,  my  boy  " — here  Lindon 
regarded  him  as  kindly  as  his  keen,  business-loving  face 
would  allow,  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  arm — "  my  lad, 
you  must  be  careful.  Remember  what  an  old  man  says — 
you're  too  honest  to  get  along  all  through  life  without  get- 
ting put  upon.  You  must  try  to  see  into  things  a  little 
more.  Just  try  and  be  a  little  more  suspicious.  If  you 
don't,  somebody  will  '  go  for  you,'  sure  as  a  gun." 

Jack  saw  that  this  was  intended  kindly,  and  he  took  it 
quietly,  wondering  if  Joseph  Lindon,  while  looking  so  un- 
commonly sober,  could  have  been  indulging  in  a  morning 
glass  of  wine.  He  went  out,  and  Mr.  Lindon  watched 
his  free,  manly  bearing  as  he  passed  to  the  front  door. 

"If  I  had  a  son  like  that,"  he  said  warmly,  "Nina 
could  marry  whom  she  liked.  That  boy  would  be  family 
enough  for  me.  He  would  have  enough  of  the  gentleman 
about  him  both  for  himself  and  his  old  father.  Lord,  if 
I  had  a  son  like  that  I'd  make  a  prince  of  him  !  I'd  just 
give  him  blank  checks  signed  with  my  name.  Darned  if  I 
wouldn't !  " 

To  give  a  son  unfilled  signed  checks  seemed  to  be  a 
culmination  of  parental  foolishness  which  would  show  his 
fondness  more  than  anything  else  he  could  do.  Perhaps 
he  was  right. 


CHAPTER   XXL 


Life  is  so  complicated  a  g;ame  that  the  devices  of  skill  are  liable  to  be 
defeated  at  every  turn  by  air-blown  chances  incalculable  as  the  descent  of 
thistledown.— George  Eliot's  Romola. 

During  Jack's  visit  to  her  father's  office,  Nina  passed 
the  time  in  desultory  shopping  until  she  met  him  on  King 
Street.     . 


m 


1^ 


4- 


+  ». 


f   V  will 


■■■l.;:3. 


- « l-> 


J'' 


«     .  I'  ■, 


260 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


"  I  need  not  ask  what  your  success  was,"  said  she,  smil- 
ing, as  she  joined  him.  "Your  face  shows  that  clearly 
enough." 

"Nothing  less  than  a  dook,"  groaned  Jack,  good- 
humoredly.  "  He  seems  to  think  they  can  be  had  at  auc- 
tion sales  in  England." 

**  I  am  glad  he  refused,"  said  Nina,  "because  his  con- 
sent would  delay  my  whims  We  have  done  our  duty  in 
asking  him,  and  now  I  am  going  to  marry  you  to-morrow. 
Jack." 

"  To-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  afraid,  dear  Jack,  that  if  I  allowed  the 
marriage  to  be  put  off  till  next  week  or  longer  you  might 
change  your  mind."  She  gave  Jack  a  look  that  disturbed 
thought.  Affection  toward  him  on  her  part  was  some- 
thing so  new  that  this,  together  with  her  startling  an- 
nouncement, made  it  difficult  for  him  accurately  to  dis- 
tinguish his  head  from  his  heels. 

"  But  I  can  not  leave  the  bank  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"  No  ;  but  you  can  get  your  holidays  a  week  sooner. 
You  were  going  to  take  them  in  a  week." 

"  Had  we  not  better  wait,  then,  for  the  week  to  ex- 
pire ? " 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  Don't  you  see  that  I  want  to  give  you 
a  chance  ?  What  I  am  rea//y  afraid  of  is  that  I  shall 
change  my  own  mind.  Father  said  only  yesterday  he  was 
thinking  of  taking  me  to  England  at  once.  If  you  don't 
want  to  take  your  chances  you  can  take  your  conse- 
quences instead." 

It  did  not  seem  anything  new  or  strange  to  Jack  that 
she  should  give  a  little  stamp  of  her  foot  imperiously,  and 
in  all  the  willfulness  of  a  spoiled  child  determine  suddenly 
upon  carrying  out  a  whim  in  spite  of  any  objections. 
And  Jack  needed  no  great  force  of  argument  to  push  him 
on  in  this  matter.     His  head  was  throbbing  with  excite- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


261 


ment.  To  think  of  the  bank  was  habitual  to  him ;  but 
the  wildness  of  the  new  move  commended  itself  10  his 
young  blood.  The  holidays  were  a  mere  matter  of  ar- 
rangement, for  the  most  part,  between  the  clerks,  and 
he  thought  he  saw  his  way  to  arranging  for  a  fortnight's 
absence.  "  I'll  make  it  all  right,", he  said,  thinking  aloud. 
"  I  will  arrange  it  with  Sappy." 

Whether  "  Sappy  "  was  the  bank  manager  or  a  fellow- 
clerk  did  not  at  the  moment  interest  Nina. 

"  Why,  Nina,  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  person  to  go 
in  for  anything  half  so  wild.  It  suits  me.  It  will  be  the 
spree  of  my  life  !  But  how  have  you  arranged  everything  ? 
or  have  you  arranged  anything  ?  " 

■  "  Oh,  there  is  nothing  very  much  to  arrange.  I  know 
you  can  not  leave  the  bank  finally  without  giving  due 
notice.  So  we  will  just  go  off  now  and  get  married,  and 
when  you  come  back,  after  a  week  or  so,  you  can  give  the 
usual  notice  and  then  we  will  go  to  California.  If  your 
brother  there  wants  you  to  go  into  the  grape-farming  he 
must  know  well  enough  that  you  have  better  chances  there 
than  here  in  the  bank,  and  if,  after  all,  the  business  there 
did  not  get  on  well,  I  dare  say  father  will  have  changed 
his  mind  by  that  time." 

"And  how  will  you  account  for  your  absence  from 
home  ? " 

"  Nothing  simpler,"  said  she,  with  a  sagacious  toss  of 
her  head.  "  I  am  just  telegraphing  to  Sophronia  B.  Hop- 
kins at  Lockport,  New  York.  You  remember  Sophronia  B., 
when  she  was  with  us  ?  I  have  telegraphed  that  I  am  com- 
ing to  see  her.  She  will  answer  to  say  *  Come  along ' ;  and 
then  I  will  put  her  off  for  a  couple  of  weeks  and  tell  her  to 
keep  any  letters  forwarded  for  me  from  here  until  I  come." 

Jack  was  astonished.  "  I  thought  your  head  was  only 
valuable  as  an  ornament,"  said  he,  with  affectionate  rude- 
ness. 


wrr 


262 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


'  m 


<VM 


■'i  '"J 


':i:;:3« 


"  I  have  never,  with  you,  had  occasion  to  use  it  before. 
To-morrow,  at  half-past  seven  in  the  morning,  you  will 
take  the  train  for  Hamilton.  I  will  take  the  9.30  and  we 
will  go  through  to  Buffalo  together,  where  we  will  arrive 
about  two  o'clock,  and  then  we  can  be  married  there  and 
go  West.  But  we  need  not  arrange  anything  more  now. 
You  will  be  at  the  Campbells'  to-night,  and  anything  fur- 
ther can  be  spoken  about  there.  Go  off  now  to  the  bank 
and  get  everything  ready.  And,  by  the  way.  Jack  " — here 
she  held  out  her  hand  as  if  for  good-by — while  she  asked, 
with  what  seemed  to  Jack  an  almost  unimaginable  coquetry 
and  beauty,  "  you  won't  change  your  mind,  dear  Jack  ? " 
She  gave  him  one  glance  from  under  her  sweeping  eye- 
lashes, and  then  she  left  him  to  grope  his  way  to  the  bank. 

She  thought,  as  she  walked  along,  "  I  think  I  have  read 
somewhere  that  *  whom  the  gods  wish  to  take  they  first 
drive  mad,'  or  something  like  that.  It  is  just  as  well,  as 
Geoffrey  suggested,  to  keep  Jack  slightly  insane  to-day.  It 
will  prevent  him  from  thinking  my  proposal  strange.  Poor 
Jack  !  To-day  he  would  give  me  his  right  arm  as  a  pres- 
ent. How  shabl)ily  I  have  treated  him,  and  how  well  he 
has  always  behaved  !  " 

About  eleven  on  the  following  forenoon.  Jack  was  wait- 
ing in  the  dining-room  of  the  Hamilton  railway  station, 
looking  out  through  the  window  to  see  Nina's  train  come 
in.  He  thought  it  better  to  escape  observation  in  this 
way.  Nor  did  Nina  indulge  in  looking  out  the  window  of 
the  Pullman.  Everything  had  been  fully  arranged,  and 
as  the  bridge  train  moved  out  of  the  station.  Jack  left  his 
obscure  post  of  observation  and  hastily  passed  through 
the  crowd  on  the  station  and  got  on  board  the  "  smoker  " 
in  front.  When  clear  of  Hamilton  he  made  his  way  back 
through  the  cars  to  the  drawing-room  car,  where  he  found 
Nina,  who  was  beginning  to  look  a  little  anxious  for  his 
arrival. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


263 


The  train  took  nearly  two  hours  to  trundle  along  to 
the  bridge.  For  a  time  they  talked  together,  but  Nina 
was  feeling  the  reaction  of  the  excitement  of  getting  away. 
She  had  had  a  good  deal  to  do,  and  she  did  not  feel  that 
going  away  with  Jack  would  prevent  her  from  enjoying  a 
fairly  comfortable  nap  in  the  large  swinging  arm-chairs. 
She  soon  dozed  off,  and  Jack,  who  was  pleased  to  see  her 
rest,  walked  to  the  end  of  the  car  and  back  again  to  calm 
his  nerves.  This  sort  of  thing  was  new  to  him.  He  had 
a  novel  with  him,  but  he  could  not  read  it.  His  "only 
books  were  woman's  looks  "  to-day.  Other  people's  ad- 
ventures seemed  poor  to  him  just  now,  in  comparison  with 
his  own. 

While  thus  moving  about  restlessly  he  became  a  little 
interested  in  an  elderly  gentleman,  evidently  a  clergyman, 
who  was  sitting  unobtrusively  behind  a  copy  of  the  Detroit 
Church  Herald.  He  passed  this  retiring  person  several 
times,  in  loitering  about,  and  then,  seeing  him  with  his 
paper  laid  down  beside  him,  stopped  and  said  cheerfully  : 

"  Got  the  car  a:i  to  ourselves  to-day." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  grave-looking  person,  with  an  Ameri- 
can accent.  "  And  pleasant,  too,  on  a  warm  day  like  this. 
It's  worth  th6  extra  quarter  to  get  out  from  among  the  cry- 
ing babies  and  orange-peel  and  come  in  here  and  travel 
comfortably.     Going  far  ?  " 

"  Only  as  far  as  Buffalo,"  said  Jack,  taking  a  seat  be- 
side him,  for  want  of  anything  better  to  do. 

"  That  is  where  I  reside." 

"Ah,  indeed!"  said  Jack.  "You  make  Buffalo  the 
scene  of  your  official  duties  ? " 

The  other  nodded.  "  I  have  been  for  a  visit  to  De- 
troit, and  now  I  am  going  back  to  relieve  my  superior  in 
the  church,  so  that  he  may  take  a  holiday  also.  I  think 
we  clergy  need  a  holiday  as  much  as  any  other  people  I 
ever  saw.     Do  you  know  Buffalo  at  all  ? " 


-  i 


TT^ 


264 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


W 


f<*m; 


^'Siwi 


.n* 


1 4 


"  Never  was  there  in  my  life,"  said  Jack. 

"  Humph  !  Well,  it  ain't  a  bad  place,  Buffalo,  when 
you  know  the  people  well.  I  have  only  been  there  five 
years,  but  I  have  found  in  our  congregation  some  real  nice 
folks.  Of  course,  mine  is  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  I 
have  generally  found  the  Episcopalians,  in  my  sojournings 
in  different  places,  to  be  the  superior  people  of  the  lo- 
cality." 

From  the  compliment  to  the  Episcopalians  it  was  evi- 
dent that  the  clergyman  had  no  doubt  Jack  belonged  to 
that  aristocratically  inclined  sect,  and  Jack  smiled  at  his 
friend's  shrewdness,  forgetting  the  fact  that  *'  Chun  h  of 
England — mild,  acquiescent,  and  gentlemanly  " — was  writ- 
ten all  over  him,  and  that  the  cut  of  his  clothes,  the  shape 
of  his  whisker,  the  turn  of  his  head  when  listening,  and 
even  the  solidity  of  his  utility-first  boots  made  it  almost 
impossible  for  any  person  to  suppose  he  belonged  to  any 
other  denomination. 

"  I  have  heard,"  Jack  said,  "  that  the  Buffalo  people, 
many  of  them,  have  lots  of  money,  and  that  they  give 
freely  to  the  churches.  I  suppose  money  is  an  element  in 
a  congregation  which  gentlemen  of  your  calling  do  not 
object  to  ? " 

It  seemed  to  Jack  that  the  long  gray  eyes  of  the  minis- 
ter smiled  at  this  point  more  because  he  thought  he  was 
expected  to  smile  than  from  any  sense  of  mirth.  He  was 
a  grave  man,  who,  behind  a  dignified  reserve,  seemed 
capable  of  taking  in  a  great  deal  at  a  glance. 

"  No  one  can  deny  the  power  of  money,"  he  said.  "  But. 
though  there  is  a  good  deal  of  it  in  St.  James's  Church, 
what  with  a  paid  choir,  and  the  church  debt,  and  repairs, 
and  the  new  organ,  and  the  paying  of  my  superior  in 
office,  I  can  tell  you  there  is  not  very  much  left  for  the 
person  who  plays  second  fiddle,  as  one  may  say.'* 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Jack  sympathetically. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


265 


"  When  a  man  has  a  wife  and  a  growing  family  to  sup- 
port and  bring  up  in  a  large  city,  and  prices  away  up, 
twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year  don't  go  a  very  great  ways, 
young  man,  and  if  it  were  not  for  our  perquisites  some  of 
us  would  find  it  difficult  to  make  both  ends  of  the  string 
meet  around  the  parcel  we  have  got  to  carry." 

Jack  was  becoming  slightly  interested  in  this  man  and 
was  wondering  what  his  previous  history  was.  He  won- 
dered that  his  new  acquaintance  had  not  made  more 
money  than  he  seemed  to  possess.  There  was  something 
behind  his  grave  immobility  of  countenance  that  suggested 
ability  of  some  sort,  he  did  not  know  what.  His  slightly 
varying  expressions  of  countenance  did  not  always  seem 
to  appear  spontaneously,  but  to  be  placed  there  by  a  di- 
recting intelligence  that  first  considered  what  expression 
would  be  the  nght  one.  It  seemed  like  a  peculiar  man- 
nerism which  might  in  another  man  be  the  result  of  a 
slightly  sluggish  brain. 

They  conversed  with  each  other  all  the  way  to  the 
bridge,  and  although  the  dignified  reserve  of  the  clergy- 
man never  quite  thawed  out,  Jack  began  to  rather  like 
him  and  be  interested  in  his  large  fund  of  information 
about  the  United  States  and  anecdotes  of  frontier  life  in 
California,  where  as  a  youth  he  had  had  a  varied  experi- 
ence. 

Their  baggage  was  examined  by  the  customs  officer  on 
the  American  side  of  the  bridge,  and  the  clergyman  no- 
ticed a  monogram  in  silver  on  Nina's  shopping-bag,  "  N. 
L.,"  and  the  initials  "  J.  C."  on  Jack's  valises,  and  came 
to  the  conclusion  from  Jack's  studied  attentions  to  Nina 
when  she  awoke  that,  if  the  young  couple  were  not  mar- 
ried yet,  it  was  quite  time  they  were  ;  and  no  doubt  it 
entered  the  clerical  mind  that  there  might  be  a  marriage 
fee  for  himself  to  come  out  of  the  little  acquaintance.  In 
view  of  this  he  renewed  the  conversation  himself  after  the 


FT 


266 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


:»::3> 


,.,». 


':l:;::3 


:i  1' 


car  went  on  by  the  New  York  Central  toward  Buffalo. 
Jack  introduced  the  Rev.  Matthew  Simpson  to  Nina,  and 
he  made  the  short  run  to  Buffalo  still  shorter  with  amus- 
ing stories  of  clerical  life,  ending  up  with  one  about  his 
own  marriage,  which  was  not  the  less  interesting  on  ac- 
count of  its  being  a  runaway  match  and  the  fact  that  he 
had  never  regretted  it.  Jack  felt  that  behind  this  elderly 
man's  dignity  there  was  a  heart  that  understood  the  world 
and  knew  what  young  people  were.  So  he  told  a  short 
story  on  his  account,  which  did  not  seem  to  surprise  the 
reverend  gentleman  a  great  deal,  and  it  was  arranged  that 
he  should  perform  the  ceremony  for  them  at  the  hotel. 
On  arriving  in  Buffalo  they  left  their  luggage  at  the  sta- 
tion, intending  to  go  on  to  Cleveland  at  four  o'clock.  On 
the  way  up  Main  Street,  Mr.  Simpson  pointed  out  St. 
James's  Church — a  large  edifice,  partly  covered  with  ivy — 
and  also  showed  the  parsonage  where  he  lived.  He  urged 
them  to  wait  and  be  married  in  the  church,  but  Nina 
shunned  the  publicity  of  it  and  pleaded  their  want  of 
time. 

Jack  and  Nina  had  some  dinner  at  the  Genesee  House, 
while  Mr.  Simpson  got  the  marriage  license  ready.  As 
luck  would  have  it,  Mr.  Simpson  himself  issued  marriage 
licenses,  which,  as  he  explained,  also  assisted  him  to  eke 
out  his  small  income ;  and  as  soon  as  they  had  had  a  hur- 
ried lunch,  they  all  retired  to  a  private  parlor  and  the 
marriage  ceremony  was  performed  very  quietly. 

Two  waiters  were  called  in  as  witnesses,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  on  their  return  to  Buffalo  in  a  few  days, 
they  could  call  at  the  parsonage  and  then  sign  the  church 
register,  for  which  there  was  now  no  time  before  the  four 
o'clock  train  left  for  Cleveland.  The  license  was  pro- 
duced, filled  out,  and  signed  in  due  form,  and  on  the 
large  red  seal  were  stamped  the  words,  "  Matthew  Simp- 
son, Issuer  of  Marriage  Licenses."     The  presence  of  the 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


267 


stamp  showed  that  he  was  a  duly  authorized  person,  and 
satisfied  Jack  that  in  employing  a  chance  acquaintance 
he  was  not  making  any  mistake. 

They  were  glad  when  the  ceremony  was  finished,  and 
Jack  was  very  pleasant  with  Mr.  Simpson.  They  all  got 
into  the  cab  again,  and  rattled  off  toward  the  station.  As 
they  came  near  the  parsonage  of  St.  James's  Church,  Mr. 
Simpson  said  he  thought  he  would  go  as  far  as  the  suburbs 
with  them  in  their  train  to  see  how  some  people  in  the 
hospital  were  getting  on.  He  said  he  would  get  down, 
now,  at  the  parsonage,  because  he  wished  to  take  some- 
thing with  him  to  one  of  the  patients,  but  that  they  must 
not  risk  losing  the  train. 

"  I  will  take  another  cab  and  meet  you  at  the  train. 
It  is  not  a  matter  of  much  moment  if  I  fail  to  catch  it ; 
but,  Mr.  Cresswell,  if  you  get  a  bottle  of  wine  into  the  car 
(perhaps  you  will  have  time  to  get  it  at  the  station),  I  will 
be  pleased  to  drink  Mrs.  Cresswell's  health." 

"That's  a  capital  idea,"  said  Jack  with  spirit.  "The 
wine  will  be  doubtful,  perhaps,  but  that  won't  be  my 
fault.  And  now,"  he  added,  as  the  carriage  stopped  at 
the  parsonage,  "  I  want  to  leave  with  you  your  fee,  Mr. 
Simpson,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  consider  that  it  cancels 
our  indebtedness  to  you."  Jack  pulled  out  a  roll  of 
bills. 

"  Never  mind,  my  dear  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Simp- 
son heartily,  "  any  time  will  do.  I  will  catch  you  at  the 
station,  and,  if  I  don't,  you  can  leave  it  with  me  when 
you  return  here  to  sign  the  register." 

Mr.  Simpson  got  out,  and  Jack,  finding  he'  had  only 
two  five  dollar  ])ills,  the  rest  being  all  in  fifties,  was  rather 
in  a  dilemma  how  to  pay  Mr.  Simpson  twenty  dollars  for 
his  fee. 

"  Here  ;  "  he  said  hurriedly,  handing  out  a  fifty,  "  you 
get  this  changed,  if  you  have  time,  on  your  way  down. 


26S 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


■i 


1:  .:.S 


\fn 


You  may  possibly  lAiss  us  at  the  station,  and  I  can  not 
hear  of  your  waiting  until  we  return." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Si»npson,  speaking  as  fast  as  his 
tongue  would  let  him,  "  I  will  have  to  take  my  chance, 
and,  if  I  can  not  catch  you,  just  call  in  for  the  balance 
whtn  you  return.  Dcn't  lose  a  moment !  "  With  a  wave 
of  his  hand  and  a  direction  to  the  driver,  Mr.  Simpson 
went  hurriedly  up  the  parsonage  steps,  and  the  cab  dashed 
off  toward  the  Michigan  Southern  depot. 

Jack  had  time  to  purchase  the  wine,  which  ought  to 
have  been  good,  judging  from  the  price.  Unfortunately, 
Mr.  Simpson  was  too  late  to  join  them.  The  train  went 
off  without  him,  and  Jack  and  Nina  drank  his  jolly  good 
health  in  half  the  boi  tie,  and  afterward  the  Pullman  con- 
ductor struggled  successfully  with  the  rest. 

Altogether  they  were  in  hijjh  spirits.  Jack  especially, 
and  Nina's  thankfulness  for  being  safely  married  to  one 
of  the  best  of  men  made  her  very  aimable. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Cresswell  approached  Buffalo  again, 
from  the  West,  at  the  close  of  Jack's  two  weeks*  holidays. 
They  decided  that  it  would  be  better  for  Nina  to  go 
straight  to  Lockport  on  the  train  which  connected  with 
the  one  on  which  they  were  traveling.  There  was  noth- 
ing for  Nina  to  do  in  Buffalo  but  sign  the  register  and  get 
her  marriage  "  lines  "  from  Mr.  Simpson,  and  Jack  could 
do  this,  they  thought,  without  a  delay  on  her  part  to  do  so. 
To  arrange  about  the  register  she  had  written  her  name  on 
a  narrow  slip  of  paper  which  Jack  could  paste  in  the  book 
at  the  parsonage.  This  they  considered  would  suffice, 
and  Nina  went  on  to  pay  her  intended  visit  to  Sophronia 
^.  Hopkins.  The  run  to  Lockport  occupied  only  a  short 
time,  and  then  she  went  to  her  friend's  house. 

In  the  mean  time  Jack,  who  was  not  like  the  husband 
in  Punch  in  that  stage  of  the  honeymoon  when  the  pres- 


GEOFFREY    HAMP3TEAD. 


269 


1  a  wave 


ence  of  a  friend  "or  even  an  enemy  "  would  be  a  grateful 
change  of  companionship,  walked  up  Main  Street  smok- 
ing a  cigar  and  trying  to  make  the  best  of  his  sudden  be- 
reavement. He  said  after  the^rst  ten  minutes  that  he 
was  infernally  lonely,  but  still  the  flavor  of  the  cigar  was 
from  fair  to  middling.  And,  after  all,  tobacco  and  quiet 
contemplation  have  a  place  in  life  which  can  not  be  alto- 
gether neglected,  and  they  come  in  well  again  after  a  while, 
no  matter  what  may  have  caused  their  temporary  banish- 
ment. 

He  strolled  leisurely  ap  to  the  parsonage  and  inquired 
for  Mr.  Simpson.  The  maid-servant  said  he  did  not  live 
there.     Jack  thought  this  was  strange. 

*'  I  mean  the  clergyman  who  has  charge  of  the  church 
alongside." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Toxham  lives  here.  He  is  inside.  Will 
you  walk  in  ? " 

Jack  was  ushered  into  a  clergyman's  library,  where  a 
thin  ma.-  with  a  worn  face  was  sitting.  Jack  bowed,  in- 
troduced himself,  and  said  he  had  come  here  to  see  Mr. 
Matthew  Simpson,  "  one  of  the  associate  clergymen  in  St. 
James's  Church  close  by." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  know  anybody  by  the  name  of  Simp- 
son," said  the  clergyman.  "  My  name  is  Toxham.  I 
have  no  associate  clergyman  with  me  in  the  neighboring 
church.  My  church  is  called  St.  Luke's,  not  St.  James's. 
I  don't  think  there  is  any  St.  James's  Church  in  Biiffilo." 

Jack  grasped  the  back  of  the  chair  and  unconsciously 
sat  down  to  steady  himself.  A  horrible  fear  overwhelmed 
him.  His  face  grew  ashen  in  hue,  and  the  clergyman 
jumped  up  in  a  fright,  thinking  something  was  going  to 
happen. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Jack  weakly.  "  Sit  down,  please. 
You  have  given  me  a  shock,  and  I  feel  as  I  never  felt 
before.     There,  I  am  better  noM ." 


rw 


270 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


As  he  wiped  away  the  cold  perspiration  that  had 
started  out  in  beads  on  his  forehead  he  related  the  facts 
as  to  his  marriage  to  Mr.  Toxham,  who  was  greatly 
shocked. 

An  idea  occurred  to  him,  and  on  looking  through  the 
city  directory,  as  a  sort  of  last  chance,  he  found  the  name 
"  Matthew  Simpson,  issuer  of  marriage  licenses." 

Jack  started  up,  filled  with  wild  and  sudden  hope.  He 
got  the  address,  and  dashed  from  the  house  before  Mr. 
Toxham  could  give  him  a  word  of  advice.  Arrived  at 
the  office  of  Matthew  Simpson,  he  walked  in  and  asked 
for  that  gentleman. 

"  I  am  Matthew  Simpson,"  said  the  man  he  spoke  to. 

Jack  looked  at  him  as  if  he  had  seven  heads,  feeling 
the  same  trembling  in  the  knees  which  he  had  felt  when 
with  Mr.  Toxham.  "  Really,"  he  thought,  '*  if  this  goes 
on  I'll  be  a  driveling  idiot  by  nightfall." 

"  Did  you  issue  a  marriage  license  on,  let  me  see,  two 
weeks  ago  to-morrow — on  the  23d  ? " 

"  More  than  likely  I  did.  Perhaps  a  good  many  on 
that  day.  You  don't  look  as  if  you  wanted  one  yourself. 
Anything  gone  wrong  ?  But  you  can  have  one  if  you  like. 
I  do  the  biggest  business  in  Buffalo.  I  sell  more  marriage 
licenses  than  any  two  men  between  here  and — " 

"  Turn  up  your  books,"  interrupted  Jack  savagely.  He 
was  beginning  to  wish  to  kill  somebody. 

"  I  always  make  a  charge  for  a  search,"  said  the  man 
cunningly,  which  was  not  true. 

**  Well,  damn  it,  I  can  pay  you.  Look  lively  now,  or 
the  police  will  do  it  for  me  in  five  minutes,  and  put  you 
where  your  frauds  will  be  of  no  use  to  you," 

It  was  Mr.  Simpson's  turn  to  lose  color  now.  He  was 
one  of  the  trustees  of  a  public  institution  in  Buffalo,  and 
people  should  be  careful  how  they  talk  too  suddenly  about 
police  to  trustees.     The  books  were  produced,  and  Jack 


P\- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


271 


le  man 


hurriedly  looked  over  the  list  of  the  licenses  sold  on  the 
23d  of  the  last  month,  and  was  surprised  to  find  that  one 
had  been  sold  to  himself.  His  age  was  entered  and  sworn 
to  as  fifty-five  years,  and  the  license  was  to  marry  Nina 
Lindon,  spinster,  aged  twenty  years.  The  addresses  given 
were  all  Buffalo. 

"  There  has  been  a  great  fraud  done  here,"  said  Jack 
vehemently. 

"  All  perfectly  regular,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Simpson. 
**  I  remember  the  circumstance  well.  Old  party,  called 
John  Cresswell,  came  in,  dressed  like  a  preacher,  and 
wanted  a  license  for  himself.  *  All  right,  my  old  covey,* 
says  I  to  myself ;  '  trust  an  old  stager  like  you  to  pick  up 
the  youngest  and  best.*  So  I  perdooced  the  papers,  which 
took  about  five  minutes  to  fill  up.  He  took  the  oath,  I 
sealed  and  stamped  the  license,  like  this  one  here,  and  as 
soon  as  he  got  it  he  took  out  his  purse  and  there  was 
nothing  in  it.  His  face  fell  about  a  quarter  of  a  yard. 
*  My  goodness,*  he  says,  *1  have  come  out  without  any 
money  ! '  He  then  laid  down  the  license  and  rushed  to  the 
door,  and  then  turned  round  and  says,  quite  distressed  : 
'I'll  take  a  cab,*  says  he,  'and  drive  home  and  get  your 
money.  They're  al)  waiting  at  the  church  for  the  mar- 
riage to  take  place,  but,  of  course,  you  must  be  paid 
first.*" 

**  Well,  I  hated  to  see  an  old  gent  put  about  so,  and  his 
speaking  about  *  taking  a  cab  *  and  coming  from  *  home  * 
in  such  a  natural,  put-about  sort  of  way  kinder  made  me 
think  he  was  solid,  and,  like  a  dum  fool,  I  slings  him  the 
license  nnd  tells  him  to  call  in  after  the  ceremony.  He 
thanked  me,  with  what  I  should  call  Christian  gratitude  in 
his  face.  Yes,  sir,  it  was  Christian  gratitude,  there,  every 
time.  And — would  you  believe  it  ? — the  old  boozer  never 
showed  up  since  !  '* 

I ! "  said  Jack,  who  only  heard  the  main  facts  of 


« 


\ni:^ 


272 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


-1  ■  M 


what  Simpson  was  saying.  "  Did  you  never  see  this  old 
man  before  ?  "  he  added. 

"  Well,  that  is  a  funny  thing  about  it.  It  seemed  to 
me  I  knew  the  face.  That  was  one  thing  that  made  me 
trust  him.  I  could  not  swear  to  it,  but  I  have  a  great  mind 
for  fr.ces,  and  I  believe  I  have,  at  some  time  or  other,  sold 
the  old  coon  a  license  before." 

Jack  thought  this  would  account  for  the  old  man,  while 
on  the  train,  giving  the  name  Matthew  Simpson,  when 
he  had  the  whole  scheme  quickly  arranged  in  his  head. 
Still,  it  might  be  that  he  was  in  fact  some  profligate,  ruined 
clergyman,  who  played  these  confidence  games  to  make 
a  livelihood.  The  license  was  issued  in  his  and  Nina's 
names,  and,  although  incorrect  on  its  face  and  not  paid 
for,  might  still,  he  thought,  be  a  legal  license  for  him  to 
claim  a  botia-fide  marriage  under.  If  the  license  was  good 
enough,  the  next  thing  to  do  was  to  go  to  the  police  office 
and  find  out  what  he  could  there.  "  The  marriage  might 
be  a  good  one  still." 

He  threw  down  the  price  of  the  license  for  Mr.  Simp- 
son, and  asked  him  to  be  good  enough  to  keep  the  papers 
in  his  possession  carefully,  as  they  might  be  required 
afterward.  He  left  Mr.  Simpson  rather  mystified  as  to  the 
interest  he  took  in  the  matter,  and  then,  having  still  two 
hours  before  train-time,  he  repaired  to  the  police  head- 
quarters. There  he  related  in  effect  what  had  taken 
place  to  Superintendent  Fox.  Two  or  three  quiet-looking 
men  were  lounging  about,  seeming  to  take  but  little  inter- 
est in  Jack's  story.  Detectives  are  not  easily  disturbed 
by  that  which  excites  the  victim  who  tells  his  unfortunate 
experience.  These  fellows  were  smoking  cigars,  and  they 
occasionally  exchanged  a  low  sentence  with  each  other  in 
which  Jack  thought  he  heard  the  word  **  Faro- Joseph." 
What  that  meant  he  did  not  know  ;  but  he  described  the 
gentleman  of  dignified  aspect,  whom  he  had  known  on 


A";. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


273 


the  train  as  Rev.  Matthew  Simpson,  and  then  he  heard 
one  of  them  mutter  "  Faro-Joseph  "  again,  while  they 
nodded  significantly. 

One  of  the  men,  who  had  his  boots  on  a  desk  in  front 
of  him,  was  consulting  his  note-book.     He  then  said  : 

"  On  the  23d  of  last  month  Faro-Joseph  got  off  the 
train  at  the  Central  Depot  at  two  o'clock.  On  the  26th 
he  left  on  the  Michigan  Southern  at  10  p.  m. 

It  dawned  upon  Jack  that  his  clerical  friend  was  called 
**  Faro-Joseph  "  in  police  circles. 

"Why  did  you  not  warn  me  when  you  saw  me  in  com- 
pany with  this  man.  He  got  off  the  train  with  me  at  the 
the  time  you  say.  Surely  I  should  have  had  some  word 
from  you ! " 

"  Well,  gent,  I  tell  you  why.  I  was  just  about  to  ar- 
rest another  man,  and  in  the  crowd  I  did  not  see  that 
you  were  with  him.  Don't  remember  ever  seeing  you  be- 
fore. I  might  pass  you  twenty  times  and  never  know  I  had 
seen  you.  You're  not  the  kind  we  reaches  out  for.  Now, 
I  dare  say,  unless  a  woman  is  of  a  fine  figure — tall,  possi- 
bly, or  the  kind  of  figure  you  admire — chances  are  you 
don't  see  her  at  all.  That  is,  you  could  not  tell  after- 
ward whether  you  had  seen  her  or  not.  Same  thing  here. 
You're  not  the  kind  we  hunt." 

Jack  turned  to  the  superintendent  and  asked  him 
whether  this  man.  Faro- Joseph,  was  not  really  at  one  time 
a  clergyman.     The  superintendent  smiled  pityingly. 

■*  Why,  he  only  started  the  sky-pilot  game  during  the 
last  ten  3'ears,  and  only  takes  it  up  occasionally.  I'hough 
I  believe  it's  his  best  holt.  As  a  Gospel-sharp  he'll  beat 
anybody  out  of  their  socks.  He's  immense  on  that  lay. 
What  I  call  just  perfect.  He's  all  on  the  confidence  ticket 
now  and  the  pasteboards.  Has  quite  given  up  the  heavy 
business.  Why,  sir,  you  would  forgive  him  most  anything 
if  you  could  see  him  handle  card-board.  We  pulled  him 
x8 


274 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


'rSMh 


br  a  *  vag."  one  night  about  four  months  ago  ;  and,  just 
to  find  out  how  he  did  things,  I  played  a  little  game  with 
him  after  we  let  him  go  on  promise  to  quit.  We  put  the 
stakes  about  as  low  as  they  could  be  put — five-cent  ante, 
and  twenty-five  cent  limit — just  for  the  experiment.  Now, 
sir,  you  would  be  surprised.  He  cheated  me  from  the 
word  *  go,'  and  I  don't  know  yet  how  it  was  done.  If  he 
dealt  the  cards  he  would  get  an  all-fired  hand  himself,  and 
if  I  dealt  him  nothing  he'd  bluff  me  right  up  the  chimney. 
For  poker  he  has  no  match,  I  believe.  All  I  know  about 
that  game  is  that  I  lost  three  dollars  in  thirty  min- 
utes." 

**  Perhaps  you  have  his  record  written  down  some- 
where "i "  said  Jack,  feeling  sick  at  heart,  and  yet  fasci- 
nated by  the  account  of  Faro-Joseph. 

"  Perhaps  we  have,"  said  the  superintendent,  smiling 
toward  one  of  the  loungers  near  by.  "  Just  come  in  this 
way." 

The  superintendent  opened  a  large  case  like  a  ward- 
robe, and  began  flapping  back  a  large  number  of  thin  flat 
vdngs  that  all  worked  on  separate  hinges.  These  wings 
were  covered  with  photographs  of  criminals — a  terrible 
collection  of  faces — and  from  one  of  them  he  took  a  very 
fair  likeness  of  our  clerical  friend  in  another  dress.  Pasted 
at  the  back  of  the  photograph  was  a  folded  paper  con- 
taining a  list  in  fine  writing  of  his  known  convictions  and 
suspected  offenses  for  a  period  of  over  forty  years.  He 
had  been  burglar,  counterfeiter,  and  forger,  which  the 
superintendent  called  the  "heavy  business*  that  he  had 
given  up.  Since  those  earlier  days  he  had  been  train- 
gambler,  confidence-man,  and  sneak-thief. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done.  Faro- Joseph  never 
had  been  a  clergyman.  To  put  the  law  in  force  was  out 
of  the  question  for  several  reasons.  Jack  got  away  to 
catch  his  train  for  Toronto  and  to  think  and  think  what 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


2;s 


it  would  be  best  to  do  about  Nina,  and  where  and  how 
they  oould  get  married  properly. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

Spread  no  wings 
For  sunward  flight,  thou  soul  with  unplumed  vans  ! 
Sweet  is  the  lower  air  and  safe,  and  known 
The  homely  levels. 

Dear  is  the  love,  1  know,  of  wife  and  child  ; 
Pleasant  the  friends  and  pastimes  of  your  years. 
Live — ye  who  must — such  lives  as  live  on  these  ; 
Make  golden  stairways  of  your  weakness  ;  rise 
By  daily  sojourn  with  those  fantasies 
;  To  lovelier  verities. 

(^Buddha's  Sermon— The  Light  of  Asia.)~KViXiO\.r>. 

Jack  made  another  mistake  in  coming  on  to  Toronto 
after  finding  out  the  disastrous  failure  of  his  supposed 
marriage.  If  he  had  gone  to  Lockport  and  found  Nina  at 
her  friend's  house,  perhaps  some  arrangement  could  have 
been  made  for  their  marriage  in  Buffalo  on  the  following 
day.  Mr.  Toxham,  the  clergyman  on  whom  Jack  called 
at  the  parsonage,  had  tried  to  get  his  ear  for  advice  on 
this  subject.  But,  as  mentioned  before,  when  Jack  read 
the  address  of  Matthew  Simpson  he  immediately  bolted 
out,  without  waiting  to  listen  to  the  suggestions  which  the 
clergyman  tried  to  make.  If  this  idea  occurred  to  Jack, 
there  were  reasons  why  he  did  not  act  upon  it.  He  was 
due  at  the  bank  the  next  morning,  and  regularity  at  the 
bank  was  a  cast-iron  creed  with  him — the  result  of  continu- 
ally subordinating  his  own  wishes  to  that  which  the  institu- 
tion expected  of  him.  The  clerk  who  was  doing  his  work 
there  would  be  leaving  for  his  own  holidays  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  and  Jack  felt  the  pressure  his  duty  brought  upon 


276 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


'•«w; 


3i< 

Mi 


him.  Again,  how  would  it  be  possible,  after  finding  where 
Nina  was  staying  in  Lockport,  to  call  at  the  house  and 
take  her  away  from  her  friends  almost  before  she  had 
fairly  arrived  ?  Geoffrey  would  have  got  over  this  diffi- 
culty. But  he  had  the  inventive  mind  which  goes  on  in- 
venting in  the  presence  of  shock  and  surprise.  Jack  was 
not  like  him  on  land.  He  had  this  ability  only  on  a  yacht 
during  a  sudden  call  for  alert  intelligence.  His  nerve  had 
not  been  educated  to  steadiness  by  escapades  on  land,  nor 
had  he  had  experience  in  any  trouble  that  required  much 
insight  into  consequences.  The  discovery  that  the  woman 
for  whom  he  existed  was  not  his  wife  seemed  to  prostrate 
and  confuse  thought.  He  felt  the  need  of  counsel,  and 
was  afraid  to  trust  his  own  decision.  If  he  could  only  get 
home  and  tell  Geoffrey  the  whole  difficulty,  he  felt  that 
matters  could  be  mended. 

He  arrived  in  Toronto  about  ten  o'clock  at  night  feel- 
ing ill  and  faint,  having  eaten  nothing  since  a  light  break- 
fast thirteen  hours  before.  He  dropped  in  at  the  club  and 
took  a  sandwich  and  some  spirits  to  make  him  sleep. 
Then  he  went  to  his  lodgings  (Geoffrey  was  out  some- 
where), rolled  into  bed,  and  slept  the  clock  round  till  eight 
the  next  morning. 

As  he  gradually  awoke,  thoroughly  refreshed,  there 
was  a  time  during  which,  although  he  seemed  to  himself 
to  be  awake,  he  had  forgotten  about  his  supposed  marriage. 
He  was  single  John  Cresswell  again,  with  nothing  on  his 
mind  except  to  be  at  the  bank  "  on  time."  So  his  troubles 
presented  themselves  gently  ;  first  as  only  a  sort  of  dream 
that  he  had  once  been  married  to  the  love  of  his  life — to 
Nina.  When  he  fully  awoke  he  began  to  realize  every- 
thing ;  but  not  as  he  realized  it  the  night  before.  Then, 
the  case  seemed  almost  hopeless.  Now,  his  invigorated 
self  promised  success  in  some  way.  He  was  glad  he  had 
not  met  Geoffrey  the  night  before.     The  morning  confi- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


277 


dence  in  himself  made  Geoffrey  seem  unnecessary.  Rub- 
bing his  sleepy  eyes,  he  walked  through  the  museum  of  a 
sitting-room  and  into  Hampstead's  bedroom,  where  he  fell 
upon  that  sleeping  gentleman  and  rudely  shook  him  into 
consciousness. 

"  Hello,  Jack  !  Got  back  ?  "  growled  Geoffrey  as  he 
awoke. 

"  Yes.  You  had  better  get  up  if  you  want  to  attend 
the  bank  to-day." 

"  All  right,"  said  Geoffrey,  sitting  up.  "  What  sort  of 
a  time  did  you  have  ?     Old  people  well  ? " 

Jack  was  supposed  to  have  been  in  Halifax,  where  his 
parents  lived  with  the  other  old  English  families  there. 

"  Yes,  I  had  a  pretty  good  time,"  said  Jack.  "  The 
old  people  are  fine  !  "  he  added,  freshly.  "  How  are  things 
in  the  bank  ?  " 

Geoffrey  tjien  retired  to  his  bath-room,  and  an  intermit- 
tent conversation  about  the  bank  and  other  matters  went 
on  for  a  few  minutes  during  the  pauses  created  by  cold 
water  and  splashing. 

It  was  a  relief  to  Jack  that  neither  at  breakfast  nor 
afterward  did  Geoffrey  ask  any  more  questions  about  his 
fortnight's  holiday.     Hampstead  knew  better. 

During  the  next  six  weeks  Geoffrey  was  decidedly  un- 
settled. "  Federal "  went  up  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
he  sold  out  with  advantage.  He  cleared  five  thousand 
dollars  on  this  transaction,  and  had  now  a  capital  of  fifteen 
thousand  dollars.  He  was  rather  lucky  in  his  venture  into 
the  stock  market.  His  experience  on  Wall  Street  had 
given  him  a  keen  insight  into  such  matters,  and  he  studied 
probabilities  until  his  chances  of  failure  were  reduced, 
keeping  up  a  correspondence  by  telegraph  and  letter  with 
his  old  W^all  Street  employers  who,  in  a  friendly  way,  shared 
with  him  some  of  their  best  knowledge. 

Immediately   after  he  had   sold   out   "  Federal "  an 


278 


(lEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


■  ■  M 

-3 


'■■'4 


American  railway  magnate  died.  This  man  almost  owned 
an  American  railway  which  was  operating  and  leasing  a 
Canadian  railway.  No  sooner  was  the  death  known  than 
the  stock  of  the  Canadian  Railway  took  a  tumble.  For  a 
moment  public  confidence  in  it  seemed  to  be  lost.  Now 
Geoffrey  had  studied  chances  as  to  this  line.  He  knew 
that  it  was  one  of  the  few 'Canadian  railways  that  under 
fair  management  was  able  to  pay  a  periodical  dividend — a 
small  one  at  times,  perhaps,  but  always  something.  It  did 
not  go  on  for  years  without  paying  a  cent  like  some  of  the 
others.  He  had  waited  for  this  millionaire  to  die  in  or- 
der to  buy  the  largely  depreciated  stock.  When  the  op- 
portunity arrived  he  bought  on  margin  a  very  large  quan- 
tity of  it  at  a  low  figure.  But  the  trouble  was  that  the 
public  did  not  agree  with  him  and  the  few  cool  heads  who 
tried  to  keep  quiet,  hold  on,  and  wait  till  things  reinstated 
themselves.  An  ordinary  man's  chances. in  the  stock 
market  do  not  depend  upon  his  own  sagacity  more  than 
does  guessing  at  next  week's  weather.  Fortunes  are  lost, 
like  lives,  not  from  the  threatened  danger  but  from  panic. 
Bad  rumors  about  the  railway  were  afloat  and  the  stock 
continued  to  go  down.  Geoffrey  hastily  sold  out  his  other 
stocks  for  what  he  could  get,  and  stuffed  everything  avail- 
able into  the  widening  gap  through  which  forces  seemed 
to  be  entering  to  overwhelm  him. 

In  the  meantime  while  Nina  was  at  Lockport,  Jack 
had  gone  on  quietly  with  his  work  in  the  Victoria  Bank. 
He  had  not  given  notice  of  his  intentions  to  leave  that 
institution,  because,  after  his  return,  he  had  thought  he 
would  like  to  take  more  money  than  he  had  already  saved 
California  with  him.  His  brother  had  written  pre- 
usly  to  say  that  he  ought  to  bring  with  him  at  least 
t  .iCe  thousand  dollars,  to  put  into  the  business  of  grape- 
farming,  and  Jack  thought  if  he  could  only  hold  on  at 
the  bank,  where  he  was  fairly  well  paid,  he  might  in  a 


GEOFFREY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


279 


few  months  complete  the  sum  required.  Already  he  had 
put  away  over  twenty-five  hundred  dollars,  and  it  would 
not  take  long  to  save  the  balance. 

Nina  came  back  from  Lockport  blaming  herself  for 
her  former  unreasoning  infatuation  for  Geoffrey.  Hers 
was  a  nature  that  had  of  necessity  to  lavish  its  affection 
on  something  or  somebody.  If  she  could  have  given  this 
affection,  or  part  of  it,  to  her  own  mother  it  would  have 
been  a  valuable  outlet  in  these  later  years.  The  con- 
fidences that  ought  to  have  existed  between  them  would 
then  have  been  the  first  links  to  be  sundered  when  she 
sought  Hampstead's  society. 

Unluckily  Mrs.  Lindon  was  not  in  every  way  perfect. 
While  she  had  continued  to  be  "not  weary  in  well  doing," 
as  she  called  it,  her  daughter  had  been  gradually  com- 
mencing to  consider  how  her  duties  and  social  law  might 
be  evaded.  While  Mrs.  Lindon  visited  the  Haven  and 
listened  to  the  stories  of  the  women  there  which  were 
always  so  interesting  to  her,  and  while  she  expended  her 
time  in  ways  that  her  gossip-loving  nature  sought,  her 
daughter  had  been  left  the  most  defenseless  pefson  im- 
aginable. 

The  fact  to  be  remarked  was,  that  the  same  impulses 
which  had  led  Nina  into  wrong-doing  previously  were  now 
becoming  her  greatest  power  for  good.  For  those  who 
claim  to  distinguish  the  promptings  that  come  from  Satan 
from  those  that  come  from  Heaven,  there  is  in  nature  a 
good  deal  of  irony.  Nature  is  wonderfully  kind  to  the 
pagan,  considering  his  disadvantages.  When  self  has 
been  abandoned  for  an  inspiring  object  there  is  no  reason 
lo  think  that  the  self-surrendered  devoted  Buddhist,  or 
the  self-offered  victim  to  Moloch,  experiences,  any  less 
than  the  Salvation  Army  captain,  that  deep,  heart-felt, 
soul-set,  almost  ecstatic  gladness — that  sensation  of  conse- 
cration  and   confidence — that   internal   song  which  the 


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280 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


.^  t»* 


,  »>*wr. 


.-•■( 


:.«•»■< 


*■'. 


:'9fi* 


New  Testament  so  beautifully  puts  words  to.  It  is  a 
great  thing  for  a  woman  to  be  allowed  to  lavish  her  affec- 
tion in  a  way  permitted  by  society,  for  few  have  enough 
strength  of  character  to  hold  up  their  heads  when  society 
frowns. 

Nina  was  just  such  a  woman  as  many  whom  her 
mother  liked  to  converse  with  at  the  Haven.  They 
were  poor  and  she  was  rich  and  well  educated,  but  she 
was  neither  better  nor  worse  than  the  majority  of  them. 
Nevertheless,  from  a  social  point  of  view,  she  was  on  the 
right  track  now,  apparently.  From  a  social  point  of  view, 
Mrs.  John  Cresswell  with  society  at  her  feet  would  not 
be  at  all  the  same  person  as  Nina  Lindon  disgraced. 
True,  it  would  require  subtlety  and  deception  before  she 
could  feel  that  she  had  re-established  herself  safely,  but, 
as  Hampstead  quoted,  "  some  sorts  of  dirt  serve  to  clarify," 
and  to  her  it  seemed  the  only  way  feasible.  She  did  not 
like  painstaking  subtlety  any  more  than  other  people.  It 
gave  her  intense  unrest.  She  looked  gladly  fonvard  to  the 
time  when  she  would  leave  Toronto  with  Jack  for  Cali- 
fornia, and  she  longed  with  her  whole  heart  for  the  neces- 
sity of  deception  to  be  over  and  done  with.  She  did  not 
know — Jack  had  not  told  her — that  their  supposed  mar- 
riage was  void,  and  she  was  following  out  the  train  of 
thought  that  leads  toward  ultimate  good.  She  was  sad- 
dened and  subdued,  wept  bitter  tears  of  contrition  for  her 
faults,  and  prayed  with  an  agonized  mind  for  forgiveness 
and  strength  to  carry  her  through  what  lay  before  her. 

The  change  in  her  was  due  to  improved  conditions 
under  which  her  nature  became  able  io  advance  by 
woman's  ordinary  channels  toward  woman's  possible  per- 
fection. A  great  after-life  might  be  opening  before  her. 
Some  time,  probably,  her  father's  wealth  would  be  hers. 
After  long  years  of  chastening  remembrances  of  trouble, 
after  years  of  the  outflow  toward  good  of  a  heart  that  re- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


281 


fused  to  be  checked  in  its  love,  and  would  be  able  from 
personal  experience  to  understand,  and  thus  lift  up  lov- 
ingly, wounded  souls,  and  with  many  of  the  perfections  of 
a  ripened  womanhood,  we  can  imagine  Nina  as  admirable 
among  women,  a  power  for  good,  controlling  through  the 
heart  rather  than  the  intellect,  as  generous  as  the  sun. 

But  where  will  these  beautiful  possibilities  be  if  her 
sin  is  found  out  ? 

Since  her  return  Jack  had  not  told  Nina  the  terrible 
news  which  awaited  her.  The  secret  on  his  mind  made 
him  uneasy  in  her  presence.  When  he  had  called  once  or 
twice  in  the  afternoon  he  was  very  silent  and  even  de- 
pressed, but  she  considered  that  he  had  a  good  deal  to 
think  about,  and  it  was  also  a  relief  to  her  not  to  be  ex- 
pected to  appear  brilliantly  happy.  What  he  thought  was 
that  after  he  had  earned  the  rest  of  the  money  he  required 
they  could  get  married  at  the  first  American  town  they 
came  to  on  their  way  to  California.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  tell  her  the  truths  which  would  make  her  wretched 
in  the  mean  lime,  and  he  did  not  see  why  the  real  marriage 
should  not  be  deferred  until  it  was  more  convenient  for 
him  to  leave  Canada.  When  Nina  had  spoken  about  go- 
ing away,  he  had  evaded  the  topic,  and  she  did  not  wish 
to  press  the  point.  He  explained  his  long  periods  of 
absence  during  this  time  by  several  excuses.  His  secret 
weighed  so  heavily  upon  him  that  he  dreaded  lest  in  a 
weak  moment  he  might  tell  her.  It  was  significant  of  the 
change  in  Nina  toward  him  that,  during  the  time  he  was 
there,  nothing  would  induce  her  to  sacrifice  the  restful 
moments  to  anybody.  She  would  sit  beside  him,  talking 
quietly  and  restfully,  holding  his  hand  in  hers,  or  with  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder.  Once,  when  he  was  leaving,  all 
the  hope  she  now  felt  welled  up  within  her  as  she  said 
good-by.  All  that  was  good  and  kind  seemed  to  her  to 
be  personified  in  Jack,  and  it  smote  him  when  she  put  her 


>'^ 


282 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


[*#«! 


arms  round  his  neck  and,  with  a  quiet  yearning  toward 
good  in  her  face,  said : 

"  Good-by,  Jack,  dear  husband  !  " 

Jack's  great  heart  was  rent  with  pity  and  affection  as 
he  saw  through  the  gathering  mists  that  calm,  wondrous 
yearning  look  in  her  face  that  afterward  haunted  him.  He 
did  not  understand  fully  from  what  depths  of  black  an- 
guish that  look  came,  straining  toward  the  light.  But  he 
knew  that  he  was  not  her  husband,  and  he  could  see  that 
when  she  called  him  by  this  name  she  was  uttering  a  word 
which  to  her  was  hallowed. 

Another  week  now  slipped  by,  and  Geoffrey  could  not 
understand  why  Jack  had  not  gone  to  California.  He 
called  on  Nina  to  ascertain  how  matters  stood.  She  re- 
ceived him  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  To-day 
Geoffrey  closed  the  door  behind  him.  It  was  the  last  time 
he  ever  intended  to  be  in  this  house,  and  so  he  did  not 
care  much  what  the  inquisitive  door-opener  might  think. 

There  was  no  mark  of  special  recognition  on  either 
side.  He  walked  quickly  toward  her,  seeing,  at  one  quick 
glance,  that  he  was  not  regarded  as  a  friend. 

"  Why  have  you  and  Jack  not  gone  yet  to  California  ?  '* 
he  said,  without  prelude. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered  coldly,  still  standing 
and  eyeing  him  with  aversion,  as  he  also  stood  before  her. 
"  Has  not  Jack  given  any  notice  of  his  intention  to  leave 
the  bank?" 

"  I  have  not  heard  of  any.  You  ought  to  know  that 
better  than  I,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  By  the  way,"  he  added, 
"you  might  as  well  sit  down,  Nina.  There  is  no  use  that 
I  see  in  playing  the  tragedy  queen."  His  voice  hardened 
her  aversion  to  him. 

"  No,"  she  said,  her  voice  deep  and  full  with  resent- 
ment. "  If  I  am  always  allowed  to  choose,  I  will  never 
sit  down  in  your  presence  again.    You  have  come  here  to 


-s.t- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


283 


look  after  your  own  interests,  and  I  have  got  to  listen  to 
you,  to  learn  from  your  lips  your  devil's  cunning.  You  are 
forced  to  tell  me  the  proper  plans,  and  I  am  forced  to 
listen  and  act  upon  them.  Now  go  on  and  say  what  you 
have  to  say." 

Hampstead  nodded,  and  said  simply  :  "  Perhaps  you 
are  right.  I  don't  know  that  it  is  worth  your  while  to  take 
so  much  trouble,  but  I  respect  the  feeling  which  prompts 
it." 

Nina  looked  angry. 

*'  Don't  think  I  say  this  unkindly.  You,  or  rather  your 
conditions,  have  changed,  and  I  merely  wish  to  acknowl- 
edge the  improvement.  We  will  speak  very  simply  to  each 
other  to-day.  Now,  about  California ;  it  appears  to  me 
that  Jack  does  not  intend  to  go  there  for  a  good  while  if 
allowed  to  do  as  he  likes.  You  must  go  at  once.  He  very 
likely  is  wishing  to  make  more  money  before  he  leaves, 
but  this  won't  do.     He  must  go  at  once." 

"  I  think,"  said  Nina,  "  that  there  need  be  no  further 
reason  for  your  seeing  me  again  after  this  interview.  You 
have  always,  lately,  been  Jack's  confidant.  Send  him  to 
me  this  evening,  and  I  will  tell  him  to  consult  with  you. 
After  that,  you  can  arrange  with  him  everything  necessary 
about  our  departure.  He  will  need  advice,  perhaps,  in 
many  ways,  and  then  he  can  (here  Nina's  lip  curled)  bene- 
fit by  your  wisdom." 

"  I  would  not  sneer  too  much  at  the  wisdom  if  I  were 
you.  My  devil's  cunning,  as  you  are  pleased  to  call  it,  has 
put  you  on  the  right  track,  whatever  its  faults  may  be.  It 
has  stood  us  both  in  good  stead  this  time,  and,  if  I  did 
force  you  to  marry  Jack,  you  should  not  blame  me  for 
that  now,  and  I  do  not  think  you  do." 

He  turned  to  move  toward  the  door.  He  did  not  con- 
sider that  he  had  any  right  to  say  good-by,  or  anything 
else  beyond  what  was  absolutely  necessary.    But  his  refer- 


,f<*m 


h  .-fc' 


:t^h 


III 


&)*■  I 


284 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTFAD. 


ence  to  Jack,  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  speak  of  his  worth, 
aroused  Nina ;  and  this,  together  with  the  thought  that  she 
would  never  again  see  this  man  who  had  treated  her 
whole  existence  as  a  plaything,  induced  her  to  speak  again 
to  him. 

"Stop,"  she  said.  "  I  do  indeed  owe  you  something. 
You  forced  me  to  marry  Jack,  out  of  your  own  selfish- 
ness, of  course,  but  still  I  must  thank  you  for  it.  To 
my  last  hour  I  will  thank  you  for  that.  Yes,  I  will  even 
thank  you  for  more — for  the  careful  way  you  have 
shown  me  my  way  from  out  of  my  troubles.  I  think  I  am 
nearly  done  with  anguish  now.  A  little  more  will  come, 
no  doubt,  and  after  that,  please  God,  whatever  troubles  I 
endure  will  not  be  shameful.  And  now  something  tells  me, 
Geoffrey,  that  I  shall  never  see  you  again.  I  can  not  let 
you  go  without  saying  that  I  forgive  you  all.  Some  time, 
perhaps,  you  will  be  glad  I  said  so.  You  have  been  by 
turns  cunning,  selfish,  wise,  and  loving  to  me.  You  have 
also  seemed — I  don't  know  that  you  zcere^  but  you  have 
seemed — cruel  to  me ;  but  I  do  not  think,  now  that  I  look 
back  upon  everything  more  calmly,  that  you  have  been 
unjust.  No  ;  a  woman  should  bear  her  part  of  the  con- 
sequences of  her  own  deeds.  I  am  glad  that  Margaret's 
happiness  is  still  possible  and  that  I  did  not  drag  anybody 
down  with  me.  The  more  I  think  of  everything  the  less 
I  blame  you.  You  will  think  I  am  getting  wise  to  look  at 
it  in  this  way,  but  I  ne\  r  could  look  at  it  like  this  until 
now." 

Nina  was  speaking  in  a  way  that  surprised  Geoffrey. 
Sorrow  had  altered  her;  dangers  and  changes  were  en- 
compassing her.  Though  all  love  for  him  was  dead,  the 
man  whom  she  had  once  worshiped  stood  before  her  for 
the  last  time.  He,  who  had  caused  her  more  happiness 
and  distress  than  any  other  person  ever  could  again,  stood 
in  silence  taking  his  leave  of  her — forever.     Urged  by 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


285 


hope,  besieged  by  doubts  and  dangers,  driven  by  necessi- 
ties, her  mind  had  acquired  an  abnormal  activity,  and  she 
seemed  all  at  once  to  be  able  to  realize  what  it  was  to  part 
from  him  for  all  eternity  and  to  become  conscious  while 
she  stood  there  of  a  power  to  rise  in  intelligence  above 
everything  surrounding  her — above  all  the  clogging  con- 
ditions of  our  existence — and  to  judge  calmly,  even  pity- 
ingly, of  both  herself  and  Geoffrey  and  of  all  the  agonies 
and  joys  that  now  seemed  to  have  been  so  small  and  un- 
necessary. As  she  spoke  the  whole  of  her  life  seemed 
spread  out  before  her.  She  recollected,  or  seemed  to  recol- 
lect, all  the  events  of  her  life,  and  she  remained  a  moment 
gazing  before  her  in  a  Avay  that  made  her  look  almost 
unreal. 

**  I  can  see,'  she  said  slowly,  in  a  calm,  distinct  voice, 
*'  everything  that  has  happened  in  my  life ;  but  all  the  rest 
is  all  a  blank  to  me." 

Geoffrey  noticed  that,  with  her  clearness  of  vision  into 
the  past  she  evidently  expected  also  to  see  something  of 
the  future  and  was  startled  and  surprised  at  seeing  noth- 
ing. She  continued  looking  before  her,  as  if  unconscious 
of  his  presence,  until  she  turned  to  him  shuddering. 

"  Good-by,  Geoffrey.  I  feel  that  something  is  going 
to  happen  in  some  way,  either  to  you  or  to  me ;  I  don't 
know  how.  I  see  things  to-day  strangely,  and  there  are 
other  things  I  want  to  see  and  can  not." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  look  such  as  he  had  never 
seen  in  any  one. 

**  You  will  never  see  me  again,  Geoffrey.  I  am  cer- 
tain of  that.  I  pray  that  God  may  be  as  good  to  you  as  I 
have  been." 

Geoffrey  grew  pale.  Something  convinced  him  that 
she  spoke  the  truth  and  that  he  never  would  see  her  again. 
There  was  something  in  her  appearance  and  in  her  words 
that  made  him  shudder.     A  rarefied  beauty  had  spread 


^m^ 


286 


GEOl'TREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


t.  ■•": 


M 

mi 

'-^m 

^^HIm 

m 

HI 

M 

11 

y] 

H 

ikLH 

^^hIW 

over  her;  she  seemed  to  be  merely  an  intelligence,  speak- 
ing from  the  purity  of  some  other  realm.  It  seemed  as  if 
it  were  no  human  prompting  that  urged  her  to  the  utter- 
ance of  forebodings,  and  that  her  last  words  were  as  sweet 
as  they  were  terrible. 

He  tried  to  look  at  her  kindly,  to  cheer  her,  but  he  saw 
that,  for  the  moment,  the  emotions  of  our  ordinary  life 
were  totally  apart  from  her  and  that  he  had  become  noth- 
ing  to  her  but  a  combination  of  recollections. 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  took  a  long  look  at  her, 
and  went  his  way,  leaving  her  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  calmly  watching  his  retreat. 

As  Hampstead  went  back  to  the  club  he  felt  unstrung. 
He  went  in  and  drank  several  glasses  of  brandy  to  brace 
himself.  He  had  been  drinking  a  great  deal  during  this 
excitement  over  his  investments.  At  ordinary  times  he  did 
not  care  enough  about  liquor  to  try  to  make  a  pastime  of 
drinking.  Now,  there  was  a  fever  in  his  blood  that  seemed 
to  demand  a  still  greater  fever.  He  did  not  get  drunk, 
because  his  individuality  seemed  to  assert  itself  over  and 
above  all  he  consumed.  To-day,  to  add  to  the  depression 
he  felt  about  his  prospects  (for  ruin  was  staring  him  in  the 
face),  the  strange  words  of  Nina — full  of  presentiment — 
her  uncanny,  prophetess-like  eyes,  and  the  conviction  that 
he  had  seen  her  for  the  last  time — all  weighed  upon  him. 
Her  last  words  to  him  haunted  him,  and  he  drank  heavily 
all  the  evening. 

He  told  Jack  he  had  called  to  see  Nina  in  the  after- 
noon, and  that  she  had  expressed  a  wish  to  see  him  in  the 
evening. 

About  eight  o'clock  Jack  made  his  appearance  at  Moss- 
bank.  Mrs.  Lmdon  had  dragged  her  unwilling  husband 
oflf  to  a  dinner  somewhere,  so  that  the  young  people  were 
not  in  anticipation  of  interruption. 

Nina  had  got  over  the  strange  phase  into  which  she 


GEOFFREY   HAMPbTEAD. 


287 


had  passed  while  saying  good-by  to  Geoffrey  during  the 
afternoon,  and  was  doing  her  best  to  appear  natural  and 
pleasant.  After  some  conversation,  she  inquired  whether 
he  had  given  the  bank  notice  of  his  intention  to  leave. 
When  he  said  he  had  not,  she  let  him  know  that  she  must 
leave  Toronto  at  once,  and  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to 
ejaculate  :  "  O  my  God,  and  we  not  married  ! " 

Nina  caught  the  words,  and  sprang  toward  him  from 
the  chair  in  which  she  had  been  sitting. 

They  were  a  pitiable  pair,  with  faces  like  ashes,  con- 
fronting each  other. 

*'  What  did  you  sny  then.  Jack  ?  Tell  me  all — tell  me 
quick,  or  you  will  kill  me  !  " 

"  Yes,  it's  true,"  groaned  Jack.  "  I  found  out  when  I 
went  back  to  Buffalo  that  Simpson  was  only  a  blackleg 
criminal  and  no  clergyman.  We  are  no  more  married  than 
we  ever  were." 

As  Jack  said  this  he  had  his  head  down ;  it  was  bowed 
with  the  misery  he  felt.  He  dreaded  to  look  at  Nina.  If 
he  had  looked,  he  would  have  seen  her  lips  grow  almost 
blue  and  her  eyes  lose  their  sight.  The  next  moment,  be- 
fore he  could  catch  her,  she  sank  on  the  floor  in  shapeless, 
inert  confusion. 

Jack  did  not  wish  to  call  for  help.  He  seized  a  large 
ornamental  fan  of  peacock's  feathers  and  fanned  her  vig- 
orously. 

She  soon  came  to.  But  still  lay  for  some  time  before 
she  had  strength  to  rise.  At  last  he  assisted  her  to  a  sofa, 
where  she  reclined  wearily  until  able  to  go  on  with  the 
conversation. 

"  Jack,"  she  said,  after  a  while,  **  if  I  don't  get  away 
from  here  in  three  days  I  will  go  mad.  Think,  now  !  I 
can  not  help  you  much  in  the  arrangements  to  get  away. 
You  must  arrange  everything  yourself.  Just  let  me  know 
when  to  go,  and  I  will  look  after  myself  and  will  meet  yon 


288 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


■•I 


somewhere — anywhere  you  propose.  But  I  can  not — I 
don't  feel  able  to  assist  you  more  than  that.  Stop  !  an 
idea  strikes  me  !  You  can  not  arrange  everything  your- 
self. There  are  always  things  that  are  apt  to  be  forgotten. 
You  must  get  somebody  to  help  you  think  out  things. 
When  we  go  away  I  feel  that  it  will  be  forever — at  least,  I 
felt  so  this  afternoon.  You  will  have  to  arrange  every- 
thing, so  that  there  need  be  no  correspondence  with  To- 
ronto any  more." 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  "I  think  your  advice  is  good.  I 
have  always  relied  on  Hampstead.  If  you  did  not  mind 
my  telling  him  the  whole  story,  Nina,  I  think  his  assist- 
ance would  be  invaluable." 

"  There  is  nothing  that  I  dread  his  knowing,"  said 
Nina,  as  she  buried  her  face  in  the  cushions.  "  He  is  a 
man  of  the  world,  and  will  know  I  am  innocent  about  our 
intended  marriage.  I  thoroughly  believe  in  his  power, 
not  only  to  help  you  tc  arrange  everything,  but  also  to 
take  the  secret  with  him  to  his  grave." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Jack.  "  I  have 
always  thought  dear  old  Geoffrey,  in  spite  of  a  good  many 
things  I  would  like  to  see  changed,  to  be  the  finest  all- 
round  man  I  ever  knew." 

"  Yes.  Now  go.  Jack !  I  am  too  ill  to  talk  a  mo- 
ment more.  Simply  tell  me  when  and  how  I  am  to  go 
and  I  will  go.  As  for  arranging  anything  more,  my  mind 
refuses  to  do  it.  Give  me  your  arm  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  !     So.     Good-night !  " 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


289 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Mad,  call  I  it ;  for  to  define  true  madness. 
What  is  't,  but  to  be  nothing  else  but  mad  ? 
But  let  that  go. 

Hamlet, 

After  leaving  Nina,  Jack  went  to  the  club,  where  he 
found  Geoffrey  playing  pool  with  half  a  dozen  others, 
whose  demeanor  well  indicated  the  number  of  times  the 
lamp  had  been  rub!ied  for  the  genius  with  the  tray  to 
appear.  Geoffrey  seemed  to  be  in  good-humor,  but  he 
gave  Jack  the  idea  of  playing  against  time.  He  strode 
around  the  table  rapidly  as  he  took  his  shots,  as  if  not 
caring  whether  he  won  or  lost.  The  only  effect  the 
liquor  seemed  to  have  upon  him  was  to  make  him  grow 
fierce.  Every  movement  of  his  long  frame  was  made  with 
a  quick  nervous  energy,  inspiriting  enough  to  watch,  but 
giving  an  impression  of  complete  unrest.  He  was  playing 
to  stave  off  waking  nightmares.  Thoughts  of  his  prob- 
able ruin  on  the  following  day  came  to  him  from  time  to 
time — like  a  vision  of  a  death's  head.  The  others  with 
him  noticed  nothing  different  in  him,  but  Jack,  who  was 
quietly  smoking  on  one  of  the  high  seats  near  by,  saw 
that  he  was  in  a  more  reckless  mood  than  he  had  ever 
seen  him  before.  He  could  not  help  smiling  as  his  friend 
strode  around  the  table  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  playing  with  a 
force  that  was  almost  ferocity  and  a  haste  apparently 
reckless  but  deadly  in  the  precision  that  sense  of  power, 
skill,  and  alcohol  gave  him.  After  a  while,  in  a  pause, 
he  spoke  to  Geoffrey,  who  at  once  divined  that  more  trou- 
ble of  some  kind  awaited  him. 

When  they  arrived  at  their  chambers,  Jack  told  him 
briefly  of  the  journey  with  Nina  for  the  purpose  of  getting 
married  in  Buffalo,  and  of  what  Nina  had  just  said. 
19 


290 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAP 


i 


m. 


hi, 


I  mm 


:;•'». » 


.3 


'-  H 


■'i  i 


Geoffrey  nodded ;  he  was  waiting  for  the  something 
new  that  would  affect  himself— the  something  he  was  not 
prepared  for. 

**  Is  that  all  ? "  he  asked  sharply. 

"  No.     That  is  not  all,"  answered  Jack  gloomily. 

"Go  on,  then." 

"I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  go  on,"  said  Jack,  not 
noticing  th  rough  tone  in  which  he  was  commanded  to 
proceed.  "  But  I  suppose  I  must.  The  fact  is,  Geoffrey, 
I  found  out  afterward  that  I  was  not  married  at  all  to 
her,  and  I  never  let  her  know  until  to-night." 

"  Is  she  dead,  then  ? " 

Geoffrey  looked  at  him  with  his  brow  lowered,  his 
eyes  glittering.     He  felt  like  striking  Jack. 

"Gracious  heavens,  no  !  Why  should  she  die  ? "  cried 
Jack,  startled  from  his  gloom. 

"  It's  enough  to  kill  her,"  said  Geoffrey.  His  con- 
tempt for  Jack  assisted  the  rage  he  felt  against  him.  He 
had  been  drinking  steadily  all  day,  and  now  could  hardly 
restrain  the  violent  fury  that  seethed  in  him.  "  Go  on, 
you  infernal  ass !     Dribble  it  out.    Go  on." 

"  I  see  you  feel  for  her,  Geoffrey.  I  am  the  biggest 
fool  that  ever  was  allowed  to  live." 

Then,  with  his  face  averted,  he  told  Geoffrey  the 
whole  story  of  the  mistake  in  Buffalo.  His  listener 
watched  him,  with  lips  muttering,  while  sometimes  his 
teeth  seemed  to  be  bared  and  gleaming. 

In  this  story,  Geoffrey  at  first  seemed  to  see  a  new 
danger  to  himself  and  his  future  prospects.  Then  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  the  new  information  did  not  much 
affect  his  own  position.  Two  things  seemed  certain. 
One  was,  that  Joseph  Lindon  would  spare  no  expense  to 
find  out  where  Jack  and  Nina  had  gone  and  to  be  fully 
informed  of  everything  that  happened.  Secondly,  that 
Nina  could  never  be  able   to   show  any  legal  marriage 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


291 


prior  to  the  one  now  intended.  This  meant  that  Nina 
and  Jack  could  not  return  to  Toronto.  A  vague  idea 
went  through  Geoffrey's  head  at  this  time. 

When  Jack  had  finished  his  story  Geoflfrey  was  calm 
in  appearance.  But  his  eyes  were  half  closed,  which 
gave  him  a  cunning  look. 

Then  he  talked  with  Jack,  so  as  to  impress  upon  his 
mind  the  fact  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  ever 
to  visit  Canada  again. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack.  "  Unless  you  come  out  to  visit  us 
you  will  never  see  us  again.  I  could  never  make  it  right 
with  the  Toronto  people.  I  will  never  again  be  able  to 
return  to  Toronto  ;  that's  clear." 

When  he  proposed  to  make  arrangements  as  to  the 
best  ways  and  means  of  leaving  Toronto,  Geoffrey  said  he 
must  have  time  to  think  over  everything.  It  was  late. 
It  would  be  better  to  sleep,  if  possible,  and  arrange  things 
further  to-morrow.  They  parted  for  the  night,  having 
settled  that  Jack  was  to  draw  out  his  money  at  once. 

On  the  next  morning  Geoffrey  ascertained  that  he  was 
ruined.  The  stock  that  he  held  in  the  Canadian  rail- 
way had  gone  down  beyond  redemption  as  far  as  he  was 
concerned.  He  had  mortgaged  everything  he  possessed, 
raised  money  on  indorsed  notes,  raised  it  in  every  shape 
and  way  within  his  means,  but  he  had  been  unable  to  tide 
over  the  depression.  A  further  call  had  been  made  for 
margins,  and  he  had  not  another  cent  to  fill  the  gap  with, 
and  all  his  stock  passed  to  other  hands.  He  drank  stead- 
ily all  day  and  even  carried  a  flask  with  him  into  the 
office,  which  he  soon  emptied.  Hampstead  was  not  by 
any  means  the  same  man  now  that  he  was  three  weeks 
previously.  He  looked  sufficiently  like  his  right  self  to 
escape  a  betrayal,  but  the  liquor  and  the  thought  of  his 
losses  raged  within  him,  and  all  the  time  an  idea  was  in- 
sinuating itself  into  his  frenzied  brain.     He  had  gone  so 


292 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


momm  :! 


far  as  carefully  to  consider  many  schemes  to  avert  his 
ruin  which  he  would  not  have  countenanced  before.  His 
weakened  judgment  now  placed  Jack  before  him  as  one 
who  conspired  against  his  peace.  He  cunningly  concealed 
it,  but  to  him  the  mere  sight  of  Jack  was  like  a  red  flag 
to  a  bull.  Just  when  all  his  plans  were  demolished,  all  his 
hopes  gone,  his  entire  ruin  an  accomplished  fact,  this  fool 
came  in  to  add  fuel  to  the  fire  that  burned  him.  In  this 
way  he  regarded  his  old  friend. 

While  in  this  state  and  while  at  his  work  in  the  bank 
the  next  morning  he  said  to  Jack,  who  occupied  the 
next  stall  to  him,  that  he  had  hit  upon  the  best  way  for 
him  and  Nina  to  depart.  It  would  be  better  for  Jack  to 
go  away  without  giving  any  notice  to  the  bank.  The 
notice  would  be  of  no  use  if  he  did  so,  because,  if  he  must 
go  away  the  next  morning,  the  notice  would  only  raise  in- 
quiry. He  told  Jack  to  slip  out  and  go  down  to  the 
docks  and  find  if  there  would  be  any  sailing  vessels  leaving 
foi  American  ports  the  next  day.  Jack  could  depart  on 
a  schooner  ;  Nina  could  make  some  excuse  at  home  and 
follow  him  by  steamer. 

Jack  liked  this  proposal.  He  .would  have  one  more 
sail  on  old  Ontario  before  he  left  it  forever.  He  skipped 
out  of  the  side  door,  and  soon  found  a  vessel  at  Yonge 
Street  wharf  that  would  finish  taking  in  its  cargo  of  fire- 
bricks and  start  for  Oswego  at  noon  the  following  day. 
He  tried  to  arrange  with  the  mate  to  go  as  a  passenger, 
but  the  captain  was  going  to  take  his  wife  ^ith  him  on 
this  trip,  so  Jack,  if  he  wanted  to  go,  would  be  obliged 
to  sleep  in  the  forecastle.  He  did  not  mind  this  much, 
and  engaged  to  go  "before  the  mast." 

In  the  afternoon  he  told  Nina  about  his  intentions, 
and  explained  that  she  could  take  the  steamer  to  Oswego 
on  the  day  after  he  left,  so  that  she  would  probably  arrive 
there  about  the  same  time.   He  had  drawn  all  his  money  out 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


293 


of  the  bank  and  was  now  ready  to  go.  Nina  said  she  could 
arrange  about  her  own  departure,  and  after  they  had  made 
a  few  other  plans  as  to  her  course  in  case  shp  got  to  Oswego 
first,  Jack  kissed  her  and  tried  to  cheer  her  from  the  de- 
pression in  which  she  had  sunk,  and  then  he  departed. 

All  that  day  Geoffrey  grew  more  moody  and  further 
from  his  right  self.  To  drown  the  recollections  of  his  ruin 
and  his  other  worries,  he  went  on  drinking  steadily.  The 
thought  came  to  him  again  and  again  that  his  marriage 
with  Margaret  was  now  almost  impossible.  He  knew  that, 
as  a  married  man,  he  could  never  live  on  his  bank  salary 
alone,  and  the  capital  to  speculate  with  was  entirely  gone. 
What  made  him  still  more  frenzied  was  the  fact  that  he 
knew  that  this  stock  he'  had  bought  was  bound  to  re-estab- 
lish itself  in  a  very  short  time.  But,  for  the  moment,  every 
person  else  had  gone  mad.  He  alone  was  sane.  Public 
lunacy  about  this  stock  had  robbed  him  of  his  fifteen 
thousand  dollars.  He  drank  still  harder  when  he  thought 
this,  and  although  he  did  not  get  drunk,  he  got  what  can 
be  described  vaguely  as  "  queer,"  and  the  next  stage  of  his 
queerness  was  that  he  became  convinced  that  the  public 
had  in  a  manner  robbed  him,  and  that  society  owed  him 
something.  When  a  man's  brain  is  in  this  state,  he  is  in  a 
dangerous  condition. 

Jack  wished  heartily  that  they  should  dine  together,  as 
this  was  his  last  evening  in  Toronto,  but  Geoffrey  avoided 
doing  so.  He  hated  the  sight  of  Jack,  but  he  carefully 
concealed  the  aversion  which  he  felt.  He  made  an  excuse 
and  absented  himself  until  nine  or  ten  o'clock,  and  during 
this  time  he  wandered  about  the  city  and  continued  drink- 
ing. He  had  not  seen  Margaret  for  over  two  weeks.  Ev- 
erything had  been  going  wrong  with  him.  Besides  his  own 
losses,  he  would  be  heavily  in  debt  to  the  men  who  had 
"  backed  "  his  paper  and  who  would  have  to  pay  for  him. 

Jack  found  him  in  their  chambers  when  he  returned 


'-f 


*;^w  'A 


294 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


for  his  last  night  at  the  old  rooms,  and  there  they  sat  and 
talked  things  over.  Geoffrey  tried  to  brace  himself  up  for 
the  conversation  with  a  bottle  of  brandy  which  he  had  just 
uncorked,  but  it  was  quite  impossible  for  him  to  pretend  to 
be  as  cheerful  as  he  wished. 

Jack  thought  he  was  depressed,  and  said  : 

*'  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  in  such  bad  spirits  to-night, 
Geoffrey." 

"  Well,  it's  a  bad  business,"  said  Hampstead,  senten- 
tiously,  looking  moodily  at  the  floor  As  this  might  mean 
anything,  Jack  thought  that  Geoffrey  was  taking  his  de- 
parture to  heart.  He  had  every  right  to  think  that  Hamp- 
stead would  miss  him. 

It  was  now  getting  late,  and  Jack  arose  and  laid  his 
hand  on  Geoffrey's  shoulder  :  *'  Don't  be  cut  up,  old 
man,"  he  said  ;  "  I  have  been  a  fool,  but  I  am  glad  thai  I 
know  it  and  am  able  to  make  things  as  right  as  they  can 
be  made.  I  know  you  feel  for  Nina  and  me,  but  you  will 
get  some  other  fellow  to  room  with  you  and — " 

During  the  conversation  Hampstead  had  drunk  a  good 
deal  of  the  brandy.  The  kind  words  that  Jack  was  speak- 
ing filled  him  with  a  fury  which  lunatic  cunning  could 
scarcely  conceal.  The  idea  in  his  mind  had  been  settling 
itself  into  a  resolve,  and  at  th's  moment  it  did  finally  settle 
itself.  He  ?hook  Jack's  hand  off  his  shoulder  as  he  arose, 
glared  at  him  for  an  instant,  and  then  turned  off  to  his 
bedroom.  "  Good  night,"  he  said  over  his  shoulder. 
"  It's  late.  I'm  off."  Then  he  entered  his  bedroom,  shut 
the  door,  and  bolted  it. 

As  he  went,  Jack  looked  at  his  retreating  form  with 
tears  standing  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  never,"  he  said,  **  saw  Geoffrey  show  any  emotion 
before.  I  never  felt  quite  sure  whether  he  cared  much 
about  me  until  now.  And  now  I  know  that  he  does.  I 
hate  to  see  him  so  cut  up  about  it ;  but  it  is  comforting 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


295 


to  think,  on  going  away,  that  he  really  liked  me  all  this 
time." 

Jack  was  a  clean-souled  fellow.  He  was  one  of  those 
who,  no  matter  how  uproarious  or  slangy  they  are,  always 
give  the  idea  that  they  are  gentlemen.  With  this  nature 
a  certain  softness  of  heart  must  go.  He  stood  watching 
the  door  through  which  Geoffrey  had  passed,  and  he 
thought  drearily  that  never  again  would  they  have  such 
good  times  together,  and  that  most  likely  they  would  never 
meet  again.  He  thought  of  Geoffrey's  winning  ways,  of 
his  prowess,  of  his  strength,  his  stature,  his  handsome  face, 
and  his  devil-may-care  manner.  He  thought  of  their  com- 
panionship, the  incidents,  and  even  dangers  they  had  had 
together.  He  thought  of  the  way  Geoffrey  had  done  his 
work  that  night  on  the  yacht  when  returning  from  Char- 
lotte. He  stood  thinking  of  all  these  things  with  an  aching 
heart.  As  he  turned  away  sadly,  his  heart  full  of  grief  at 
parting,  he  burst  out  with  *'  Darned  if  I  don't  love  that 
man,"  and  he  closed  his  door  quickly,  as  if  to  shut  out  the 
world  from  witnessing  a  weakness. 

On  the  inner  side  of  Geoffrey's  bedroom  door  there 
was  something  else  going  on,  which  represented  a  very 
different  train  of  thought. 

Geoffrey,  after  bolting  his  door,  went  to  his  dressing- 
case  and  took  from  it  a  pair  of  scissors  and  a  threaded 
needle.  Then  he  took  an  old  waistcoat  and  cut  the  lining 
out  of  it.  Then  he  took  a  second  old  waistcoat  and  sewed 
the  pieces  of  lining  against  the  inside  of  it,  and  also  ran 
stitches  down  the  middle  of  each  piece  after  it  was  sewed 
on.  Thus  he  had  a  waistcoat  with  four  long  pockets  on 
the  inside — two  on  each  side  of  it,  all  open  at  the  top. 

When  this  was  done  he  rolled  into  bed,  where  Nature 
hastened  to  restore  herself. 

Before  breakfast  in  the  morning.  Jack  hailed  a  cab  and 
took  his  two  valises  to  the  Yacht  Club  beside  the  water's 


:':tt 


1 

m 

1 

1 

m 

"  ♦» 


296 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTKAD. 


edge,  and  left  them  in  his  locked  cupboard  there.  He 
only  intended  to  take  this  amount  of  luggage  with  him. 
The  rest  of  his  things  could  come  on  when  Geoffrey 
packed  up  and  forwarded  his  share  of  their  joint  museum 
and  library.  Geoffrey  did  not  turn  up  at  breakfast.  He 
breakfasted  on  a  cup  of  strong  coffee  and  brandy  at  a 
restaurant  and  went  to  the  bank  early. 

Mr.  St.  George  Le  Mesuri^r  Hector  Northcote,  com- 
monly called  "  Sappy  "  in  the  bank,  was  a  younger  son  of 
a  long-drawn-out  race.  He  had  been  sent  out  to  make 
his  fortune  in  the  colonies,  and  he  had  progressed  so  far 
toward  affluence  that,  in  eight  years  of  "  beastly  servitude, 
you  know,"  he  had  attained  the  proud  position  of  discount 
clerk  at  the  Victoria  Bank,  and  it  did  not  seem  probable 
that  his  abilities  would  be  ever  recognized  to  any  further 
extent.  The  great  scope  of  his  intelligence  v^as  shown  in 
the  variety  of  wearing  apparel  he  was  able  to  choose,  all 
by  himself,  and  he  was  the  showman,  the  dude,  the  in- 
croyable  of  the  Victoria  Bank.  When  he  met  a  man  for 
the  first  time  he  weighed  him  according  to  the  merits  of 
the  garments  he  wore.  He  met  Geoffrey  as  he  came  into 
the  bank  this  morning. 

"  My  deah  fellah,"  he  said,  "  where  did  you  get  that 
dreadful  waistcoat?" 

"  None  of  your  business,  Sappy  ?  You  used  to  wear 
one  yourself  when  they  were  in  fashion.  I  remember  your 
rushing  off  to  get  one  from  the  same  piece  when  you  first 
saw  this  one." 

Mr.  St.  George  Le  Mesurier  Hector  Northcote  had  a 
weak  child's  voice,  which  he  cultivated  because  it  sepa- 
rated him  from  the  common  herd — most  effectually.  It 
made  all  ordinary  people  wish  to  kick  him  every  time  he 
opened  his  mouth.  He  liked  to  be  thought  to  have  ideas 
about  art,  and  he  talked  sweetly  about  the  furniture  of 
**  ma  mothah  "  (my  mother.) 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


297 


Geoffrey  walked  past  this  specimen  with  but  little  cere- 
mony. The  brandy  and  coffee  and  another  brandy  with- 
out coffee  had  succeeded  in  putting  him  into  just  the  same 
state  in  which  he  had  gone  to  bed  on  the  previous  night. 
He  could  talk  to  any  person  and  could  do  his  work,  but 
fumes  of  alcohol  and  abandonment  of  recklessness  had  for 
a  time  driven  out  all  the  morality  he  ever  possessed  ;  and 
where  some  ideas  of  justice  had  generally  reigned  there 
flourished,  in  the  fumes  of  the  liquor  which  he  had  drunk, 
noxious  weedy  outgrowths  of  a  debased  intelligence  un- 
checked by  the  self-respect  of  civilization.  To-day,  he 
was,  to  himself,  the  victim  of  a  public  that  had  robbed 
him.     Society  owed  him  a  debt. 

They  all  went  to  work  in  the  usual  way.  About  a 
quarter-past  eleven  o'clock  Jack  put  his  head  to  Geoffrey's 
wicket  and  they  whispered  together  : 

Jack  said,  "  Time  for  me  to  be  off.''  " 

"  Yes,  just  leave  everything  as  if  you  were  coming 
back.  If  you  put  away  anything,  or  close  the  ledger, 
they  may  ask  where  you  are  before  you  get  fairly  off.  By 
the  way,  how  are  you  carrying  your  money  ?  '* 

*■  By  Jove  !  I  forgot  that,"  said  Jack,  **  or  I  might 
have  made  the  package  smaller  by  exchanging  for  larger 
bills.     It  makes  a  terrible  *  wollage  '  in  my  pocket." 

Geoffrey  stepped  back  a  moment  and  picked  two  Amer- 
ican bills  for  one-thousand  dollars  each  from  a  package  of 
fifty  of  them  lying  beside  him. 

"Here,"  he  said.  "Take  these  two  and  pin  them 
in  the  watch-pocket  of  your  waistcoat.  Don't  give  me 
back  your  money  here.  Just  run  up  to  our  chambers  and 
leave  your  two  thousand  under  my  bed-clothes.  I  don't 
want  any  one  to  see  you  paying  me  the  money  here,  or 
they  will  think  I  connived  at  your  going.  I  can  get  it 
during  the  afternoon  and  make  my  cash  all  right." 

Jack  did  not  quite  see  the  necessity  of  this,  but  he 


»*♦*! 


yiim 


tf 


298 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


had  not  time  to  think  it  out,  and  even  if  he  had,  he  would 
have  done  what  Geoffrey  told  him. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  "thank  you.  That  will  make 
two  *  one-thousands '  and  seven  *  one  hundreds,'  and  the 
rest  small,  for  immediate  use." 

"  Very  well.  Go  into  the  passage,  now,  and  wait  at 
the  side  door.     I  will  come  out  and  say  good-by  to  you." 

Jack  took  his  hat  and  sauntered  out  into  the  passage. 

In  a  minute  Geoffrey,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
strolled  to  the  side  door. 

"Good-by,  Jack,"  he  said  hastily.  "When  your 
schooner  sails  past  the  foot  of  Bay  Street  here,  just  get  up 
on  the  counter  and  wave  your  handkerchief  so  that  I  may 
see  the  last  of  you." 

"  All  right,  dear  old  man.  I'll  not  forget  to  take  my 
last  look  at  the  old  Vic,  and  to  do  as  you  say.  I  must 
run  now,  and  leave  the  two  thousand  in  your  bed,  and 
then  get  on  board.     Good-by.     God  bless  you  ! " 

Geoffrey  sauntered  back  to  his  stall  and  took  a  drain 
at  a  flask  of  brandy  to  keep  off  the  chill  he  felt  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  to  brace  himself  up  generally. 

Jack  hurried  off  to  the  chambers,  counted  out  the  two 
thousand  dollars  which  he  had  wished  to  get  rid  of,  and  after 
taking  a  last  look  at  the  old  rooms,  he  hurried  to  the  Yacht 
Club.  Here  he  put  the  valises  into  his  own  skiff  after 
changing  his  good  clothes  for  the  old  sailing  clothes  already 
described.  Then,  under  an  old  soft-felt  hat  with  holes 
in  the  top,  he  rowed  down  to  the  schooner,  threw  his  va- 
lises on  board,  and  climbed  over  the  side.  He  let  his  skiff 
go  adrift.  He  had  no  further  use  for  it.  There  were 
some  stone-hookers  at  the  neighboring  dock.  He  called 
to  the  men  on  one  of  them  and  said,  "  There's  a  boat  for 
you !  "  Then  he  dropped  down  the  forecastle  ladder  with 
his  luggage. 

His  arrival  on  board  was  none  too  early,  for  the  covers 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


299 


le  covers 


were  off  the  sails  and  the  tug  was  coming  alongside  to 
drag  the  vessel  away  from  the  wharf,  and  start  her  on  her 
way  with  the  east  wind  blowing  to  take  her  out  of  the  bay. 

The  tug  was  towing  her  toward  the  west  channel  as 
they  passed  the  different  streets  in  front  of  the  city.  At 
Bay  Street,  Jack  left  off  helping  to  make  canvas  for  a  min- 
ute, and,  running  to  the  counter,  sprang  up  on  the  bul- 
warks and  waved  his  handkerchief  to  somebody  who,  he 
knew,  was  watching  through  the  windows  of  the  Victoria 
Bank. 

There  was  nothing  to  detain  the  schooner  now.  The 
wind  was  from  the  east,  and  consequently  dead  ahead 
for  the  trip,  but  it  was  a  good  fresh  working  breeze, 
and  Geoffrey,  when  he  saw  how  things  looked  on  the 
schooner,  knew  that  it  had  fairly  started  on  its  passage 
to  Oswego. 

He  glanced  around  him  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure, 
and  then  he  divided  the  pile  of  forty-eight  (formerly  fifty) 
one-thousand-dollar  bills  into  four  thin  packages.  These 
he  slipped  hurriedly  into  the  four  long  poc^cets  v.'hich  he 
had  made  in  the  waistcoat  the  previous  night.  He  then 
buttoned  up  the  waistcoat,  and  from  the  even  distribution 
of  the  bills  upon  his  person  it  was  impossible  to  see  any 
indication  of  their  presence. 

When  this  was  done  and  he  had  surveyed  himself  care- 
fully, he  took  another  pull  at  the  flask  on  general  principles 
and  proceeded  to  take  further  steps.  He  might  as  well 
have  left  the  liquor  alone,  because  his  nerve,  once  he  com- 
menced operations,  was  like  iron. 

He  banged  about  some  drawers,  as  if  he  were  looking 
for  something,  and  then  called  out : 

"Jack?" 

No  answer. 

" Jack  ?  " 

Still  no  answer. 


:l 


•■■■!!    I, 


300 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


m. 
m 


The  ledger-keeper  from  A  to  M,  who  occupied  the 
stall  beyond  Jack's,  then  growled  out : 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ? " 

"Where's  Jack?" 

**  I  don't  know.  He  asked  me  to  look  after  his  ledger 
for  a  moment,  and  then  went  out.  He  has  been  out  for 
over  an  hour,  and  if  the  beggar  thinks  I'm  going  to  be 
skipping  round  to  look  up  his  confounded  ledger  all  day 
he's  mistaken.  I'll  give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind  when  he 
comes  in." 

**  A  to  M  "  went  on  growling  and  sputtering,  like  a  leaky 
shower-bath, 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  Geoffrey  ;  "  but  you  fellows 
are  playing  a  trick  on  me,  and  I  don't  scare  worth  a  cent." 

Everybody  could  hear  this  conversation.  Geoffrey 
then  stepped  on  a  stool  and  leaned  over  the  partition, 
smiling,  and  seized  the  hard-working  receiving-teller  by 
the  hair. 

"  Come,  you  beggar,  I  tell  you  I  don't  scare.  Just 
hand  over  the  money.  Really,  it's  a  very  poor  kind  of  a 
joke." 

"  What's  a  poor  kind  of  a  joke  ?  Seizing  me  by  the 
hair  ?  " 

Geoffrey  looked  at  him  smilingly,  as  if  he  did  not  be- 
lieve him  and  still  thought  there  had  been  a  plan  to  ab- 
stract the  money  and  frighten  him. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  much  personally,  but  that  packet 
of  fifty  thousand  is  gone,  and  if  any  fellow  is  playing  the 
fool  he  had  better  bring  it  back. 

Several  of  the  clerks  now  came  round  to  his  wicket. 
This  sort  of  talk  sounds  very  unpleasant  in  a  bank. 

"  Where  did  you  leave  the  bills  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  Right  here,"  said  Geoffrey,  laying  his  hand  on  a  lit- 
tle desk  close  beside  the  wicket,  opening  into  the  box  in 
which  Jack  had  worked. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


301 


"  Well,  you  had  better  report  the  thing  at  once,"  said 
several,  who  were  looking  on  with  long  faces. 

"I  shall,  right  straight,"  said  Geoffrey  energetically. 
His  face  bore  an  admirable  expression  of  consternation, 
checked  by  the  sang  froid  oi  an  innocent  bank-clerk.  He 
strode  off  into  the  manager's  room. 

"  Excuse  me  for  interrupting  you,  sir.  I  thought  it  was 
a  hoax  at  first,  but  it  looks  very  much  as  if  fifty  thousand 
dollars  had  been  taken  from  my  box." 

*'  What,  stolen  !  " 

"  Looks  like  it — very.  If  you  would  kindly  step  this 
way,  sir,  I  will  explain  what  I  know  about  it." 

Geoffrey  then  showed  the  manager  where  the  bills  had 
been  laid,  and  did  not  profess  to  be  able  to  tell  anything 
more. 

"  Mr.  Northcote,  ring  up  the  chief  of  police,  and  tell 
me  when  he  is  there,"  said  the  manager.  "  Where  is  Mr. 
Cresswell  ? " 

No  answer. 

"  Does  anybody  know  where  Mr.  Cresswell  is  ?  " 

Ledger-keeper  from  A  to  M  then  said  that  Mr.  Cress- 
well went  out  over  an  hour  ago,  and  had  asked  him  to 
look  after  his  ledger  for  five  minutes.  Mr.  Cresswell  had 
not  returned. 

The  manager  walked  into  Jack's  box  and  looked 
around  him.  Everything  was  lying  about  as  if  he  had 
just  stopped  working,  and  this,  to  the  manager's  mind, 
seemed  to  give  the  thing  a  black  look.  It  seemed  as  if 
Jack,  if  he  had  made  off  with  the  money,  had  left  things 
in  this  way  as  a  blind. 

The  telephone  was  ready  now,  and  the  manager  re- 
quested the  chief  of  police  to  send  a  couple  of  his  best 
detectives  at  once.  Only  one  was  available  at  first.  This 
man.  Detective  Dearborn,  appeared  in  five  minutes,  and 
was  made  acquainted  with  all  the  known  circumstances. 


■f 


S<       ,(►*.  i" 


i*««i 


ii 


302 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


When  this  was  done,  fully  two  hours  had  elapsed  since 
Jack's  departure,  and  still  he  had  not  turned  up. 

Detective  Dearborn  was  a  man  with  large,  usually 
mild,  brown  eyes.  There  was  nothing  in  the  upper  part  of 
his  face  to  be  remarked  except  general  immobilityof  coun- 
tenance. The  lower  part  of  his  face,  however,  was  sug- 
gestive.  His  lower  jaw  protruded  beyond  the  upper. 
Whether  this  means  anything  in  the  human  being  may  be 
doubted,  but  one  involuntarily  got  the  idea  that  if  this  man 
one?  "  took  hold,"  nothing  short  of  red-hot  irons  would 
burn  him  off. 

He  took  a  careful,  mild  survey  of  the  premises,  lis- 
tene'^  to  everything  that  was  said,  remarked  that  the  pack- 
age could  not  have  been  taken  from  the  public  passage- 
way if  left  in  the  place  indicated,  looked  over  Jack's  aban- 
doned stall,  asked  a  few  questions  from  the  manager,  and, 
like  a  sensible  man,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Jack  had 
taken  the  money. 

He  walked  into  the  manager's  room  and  asked  him 
several  questions  about  Jack's  habits  and  his  usual  pur- 
suits. Geoffrey  was  called  in  to  assist  at  this.  Yes,  he 
could  take  the  detective  to  Jack's  room.  Jack  had  no  habits 
that  cost  much  money.  "  Had  he  been  speculating  at  all } " 
Geoffrey  thought  not,  although  some  time  ago  Mr.  Cress- 
well  had  said  that  he  was  "  in  a  little  spec,"  and  hoped  to 
make  something.     Did  not  know  what  the  "  spec."  was. 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  Dearborn,  **  when  you  last  spoke  to 
Mr.  Cresswell  ? " 

"  We  spoke  to  each  other  for  a  minute  just  before  he 
went  out.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  going  to  the  Dusenalls' 
*  shine'  to-night.  I  said  I  was.  Then  he  spoke  about 
several  young  ladies  of  our  acquaintance,  and  other  things 
which  had  no  reference  to  this  matter." 

"Was  the  lost  money  in  the  place  you  say  at  that 
time?" 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


303 


"Yes.  I  remember  having  my  hand  on  the  packet 
while  I  spoke  to  him." 

*'  May  I  ask  if  you  at  any  time  during  the  morning  left 
your  stall?" 

**  Yes,  I  did,  once.  I  went  out  as  far  as  the  side  door 
for  an  instant  shortly  after  Mr.  Cresswell  went  out." 

'♦What  for?" 

"  Well,"  said  Geoffrey,  smiling,  "  I  was  thinking  of 
boating  this  afternoon,  and  I  wanted  to  see  how  the  sky 
promised  for  the  afternoon." 

The  mild  eyes  looked  at  Geoffrey  with  uncomfortable 
mildness  at  this  answer.  It  might  be  all  right,  but  Dear- 
born thought  that  this  was  the  first  suspicious  sound  which 
he  had  heard. 

*♦  My  young  gentleman,  I'll  keep  my  eye  on  you,"  he 
thought.  "  That  reply  did  not  sound  quite  right,  and  you 
seem  a  trifle  too  unconcerned." 

Another  detective  arrived  now,  and  he  was  detailed  to 
inform  the  others  and  to  watch  the  railway  stations  and 
steamboats.  Immediately  afterward,  descriptions  of  Jack 
flew  all  over  Canada  to  the  many  different  points  of 
exit  from  the  country.  Had  he  tried  to  leave  Canada  by 
sail  or  steamboat  he  would  have  been  arrested  to  a  cer- 
tainty. Geoffrey  laughed  in  his  sleeve  as  he  thought  of 
the  way  he  had  sent  Jack  off  in  a  schooner — a  way  that 
few  people  would  dream  of  taking,  and  yet,  perhaps,  the 
safest  way  of  all,  as  schooners  could  not,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  things,  be  watched  by  the  detectives.  But  if 
the  news  got  beyond  police  circles  that  Jack  had  ab- 
sconded with  money,  or  if  it  should  be  discovered  in 
any  way  that  he  had  gone  on  the  schooner  to  Oswego 
— if  this  were  published  —  Joseph  Lindon  might  be- 
come alarmed,  and  prevent  his  daughter  from  going  to 
Oswego  also.  Even  the  news  of  Jack's  departure  for 
parts  unknown  might  make  him   suspicious.    With  this 


304 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


vni 


tiiS5i 


in  view  he  immediately  said  to  the  manager  and  the  de- 
tective : 

**  I  would  like  to  make  a  suggestion,  if  there  be  no  oh- 
jection." 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Hampstead.  Wc  will  be  glad  to  lis- 
ten to  what  you  have  to  say." 

"Of  course,  I  can  not  think  that  Mr.  Cresswell  took 
the  money,"  said  Geoffrey.  "  But  I  think  if  complete 
secrecy  were  ordered,  both  in  the  bank  and  elsewhere, 
while  every  endeavor  was  being  made  at  discovery,  the 
detectives  would  have  a  better  chance  of  success,  on 
whatever  theory  they  may  work.  Possibly  the  money  may 
be  recovered  before  many  hours  arc  over,  and  in  that  case 
the  bank  might  wish  to  hush  the  matter  up  quietly. 
Prematurely  advertising  a  thing  like  this  often  does  harm  ; 
and  there  can  be  no  question  about  the  interests  of  the 
bank  in  the  matter." 

"  I  will  act  upon  that  suggestion  at  once,"  said  the 
manager.  "  In  the  mean  time,  you  will  go,  please,  with  the 
detective  and  admit  him  to  Mr.  Cresswell's  rooms,  and 
see  what  is  to  be  seen  there.  I  will  give  the  strictest 
orders  that  nothing  of  this  is  to  be  told  outside  by  the 
officials  or  police." 

Orders  were  delivered  to  all  the  detectives  to  give  no 
items  to  newspaper  reporters,  and  the  chance  of  Nina's 
getting  away  on  the  following  morning  seemed  secured. 
Geoffrey  laughed  to  himself  as  he  thought  he  had  crushed 
the  last  adder  that  could  appear  to  strike  him. 

He  let  Mr.  Dearborn  into  Jack's  room.  Everything 
was  in  confusion.  Bureau  drawers  were  lying  open,  and 
Jack's  valises  were  gone.  Dearborn  saw  at  a  glance  that 
Cresswell  had  fled,  and  he  lost  no  time,  but  turned  on 
his  heel  immediately,  thanked  Hampstead,  and  rattled 
down-stairs.  Geoffrey  first  ascertained  that  he  was  really 
gone,  and  then  went  back,  took  out  the  two  thousand  dol- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


305 


lars  that  Jack  had  put  under  his  bcd-clothes,  and,  hastily 
taking  the  forty-eight  stolen  bills  from  the  interior  of  his 
waistcoat,  he  stuffed  the  whole  amount  into  an  old  Well- 
ington boot  that  was  hanging  on  a  nail  in  a  closet.  Out 
of  Jack's  two  thousand  he  put  several  bills  in  his  pocket 
to  pay  for  his  evening's  amusements.  He  then  returned  to 
the  bank.  It  will  be  seen  that  his  object  in  not  taking 
this  two  thousand  from  Jack  at  the  bank  was  that  he 
could  not  safely  conceal  such  a  large  package  on  his  per- 
son, and  he  could  not  put  it  with  his  cash,  because,  in 
case  his  cash  was  examined,  it  would  be  found  to  contain 
two  thousand  dollars  too  much,  which  would  cause  in- 
quiry. 

The  manager  while  brooding  over  the  event,  and  ask- 
ing questions,  soon  found  out  that  the  missing  bills  had 
been  all  in  one  deposit.  The  receiving  teller  had  taken  them 
in  the  day  before.  The  item  was  looked  into  and  it  was 
noted  that  this  was  a  deposit  of  the  Montreal  Telegraph 
Company.  On  inquiry  it  was  found  to  be  a  balance  due 
from  the  Western  Union  Telegraph  Company  in  the  States 
for  exchanges.  The  Montreal  Telegraph  Company  had 
received  the  money  from  New  York  by  express,  and  to 
guard  against  loss  the  Western  Union  had  taken  the  pre- 
caution to  write  by  mail  to  the  company  at  Toronto  giv- 
ing the  number  of  each  bill  in  full,  and  saying  that  all 
the  bills  were  those  of  the  United  States  National  Bank  at 
New  York.  In  two  hours,  therefore.  Dearborn  was  supplied 
with  the  numbers  of  all  the  bills.  Geoffrey  was  startled  at 
this  turn  of  events.  But  he  thought  it  did  not  matter 
much.  He  could  slip  over  to  the  States  in  a  few  months 
and  get  rid  of  the  whole  of  the  money  in  different  places. 

While  all  this  internal  commotion  was  going  on  at  the 
Victoria  Bank,  Nina  was  paying  a  little  visit  to  her  fa- 
ther's office.  She  alighted  from  an  equipage  every  part 
of  which,  including  coachman,  footman,  horses,  and  liveries, 
20 


m 


% 


£'fj 


llHl 


306 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


had  been  imported  from  England.  The  coachman  and 
footman  did  not  wear  their  hats  on  one  side  or  cross  their 
legs  and  talk  affably  to  each  other  as  they  seem  to  do  in 
the  American  cities.  Joseph  Lindon  was,  in  effect,  per- 
fectly right  when  he  said  they  were  the  "  real  thing  " — 
"first  chop." 

Nina  swept  through  the  outer  office,  looking  more 
charming  than  ever.  After  she  had  passed  in,  one  of  the 
clerks,  called  Moses,  indulged  in  the  vulgar  pantomime 
peculiar  to  clerks  of  low  degree.  He  placed  both  hands 
on  his  heart,  gasped,  and  rolled  back  against  the  wall  to 
indicate  that  he  was  irretrievably  smashed  by  her  appear- 
ance. 

Her  father  received  her  gladly. 

**  Ah !  "  he  said,  "  you  have  condescended  to  pay  me  a 
visit,  my  fine  lady  !  It's  money  you're  after.  I  can  see  it 
in  your  eye.  Now,  how  much,  my  dear,  will  this  little 
visit  co9i  me,  I  wonder?  Just  name  your  figure,  my  dear, 
and  strike  it  rather  high."  Mr.  Lindon  was  in  a  remark- 
ably good  humor. 

*'  No,  father,  I  did  not  come  altogether  for  money.  I 
came  to  know  if  I  could  go  over  to  Oswego  for  a  week. 
Louisa  Dallas,  who  stayed  with  us  last  winter,  wants  me 
to  go  over." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  you  can  do  anything  you  please 
— in  reason.    I  thought  the  Dallases  lived  in  Rochester?" 

"  So  they  did  ;  but  they  have  moved.  Well,  that  is  all 
right.  Now,  if  you  have  any  money  to  throw  away  upon 
me  I  will  try  to  do  you  cedit  with  it.  Don't  I  always  do 
you  credit  ? " 

"  Credit  ?  You  are  the  handsomest  girl  I  ever  saw. 
Do  me  credit  ?  Why,  of  course,  and  always  will.  Come 
and  kiss  me,  my  dear.  I  declare  you  would  charm  the 
heart  of  a  wheel-barrow.  Now,  how  much  would  you 
like  this  morning  ?    Strike  it  high,  girl.     Understand,  you 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


307 


can  have  all  the  money  you  want.  You  will  go  to  Oswego 
and  see  your  friends  and  have  a  good  time.  Perhaps  they 
won't  have  much  money  to  throw  away,  but  don't  let 
that  stand  in  the  way.  Trot  out  the  whole  of  them  and 
set  up  the  entire  business  yourself.  Take  them  all  down 
to  Watkin's  Glen,  or  some  place  else.  There's  nothing  to 
do  in  Oswego.  You  can't  ^^pend  half  the  money  I  can 
give  you.  Why,  dash  it,  I  cleared  fifty  thousand  dollars 
before  lunch-time  to-day,  and  now  how  much  will  you 
have  of  it  ? " 

"Well,  there's  a  little  bill  at  Murray's  for  odds  and 
ends." 

*•  How  much.?" 

**  Oh,  five  or  six  hundred,  perhaps." 

"  Blow  five  or  six  hundred  !  Is  that  all  the  money  you 
can  spend  ?  Of  course  you  are  the  best-dressed  woman 
in  town,  but  you  must  do  better  than  this.  I  tell  you 
you  have  just  got  to  sweep  all  these  other  women  away 
like  flies  before  you.  1*11  clothe  you  in  gold  if  you  say  the 
word.     Five  or  six  hundred  !     Rubbish  !  " 

He  struck  a  bell,  and  the  impressionable  Moses  ap- 
peared. 

"  How  much  will  you  have  ?  "  he  said  to  Nina,  smiling. 
He  loved  to  try  and  stagger  her  with  his  magnificence. 

"  I  suppose  Murray  ought  to  be  paid  and  a  few  other 
bills  lying  about."  Nina  thought  this  would  be  a  good 
chance  for  Jack,  and  she  said  to  herself  she  would  strike 
it  high. 

"  I  suppose  a  thousand  dollars  would  do,"  she  said, 
rather  timidly  ;  adding,  "with  Murray  and  all." 

"  Damn  Murray  and  all !  "  cried  Mr.  Lindon,  in  a  burst 
of  good  nature.  "  You  sha'n't  pay  any  of  them. — Moses, 
write  Miss  Lindon  a  check  for  a  couple  of  thousand,  and 
bring  it  here." 

While  Moses  wrote  the  check  out,  Lindon,  with  a 


3o8 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


.^'tf  • 


display  of  affection  he  rarely  showed,  drew  Nina  down 
upon  his  knee. 

"  How  did  you  make  so  much  money  to-day,  father  ? " 
she  asked. 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  anything  about  such  matters. 
Yesterday  I  bought  the  stock  of  a  Canadian  railway.  At 
ten  o'clock  this  morning  it  took  a  sudden  rise  because  I 
let  people  know  I  was  buying.  I  got  a  lot  of  it  before  I 
let  them  know,  and  then  up  she  went,  steadily,  the  whole 
morning.  At  twelve  o'clock  I  had  made  at  least  fifty 
thousand,  and  by  nightfall  I  may  have  made  a  hundred 
thousand.  I  don't  know  how  it  stands  just  now,  and  I 
don't  much  care." 

This  was  the  identical  stock  Hampstead  had  been  un- 
able to  retain.  If  he  could  have  held  on  a  few  hours  longer 
he  would  have  made  more  honestly  on  this  day  than  he  had 
stolen  at  the  same  hour. 

The  check  was  signed  and  handed  to  Nina.  She  put 
it  in  her  shopping-bag  and  took  her  father's  head  between 
her  hands  and  kissed  his  capable  old  face  with  a  warmth 
that  surprised  him  a  little.     To  her  this  was  a  final  good- 

"  You're  a  good  old  daddy  to  me,"  she  said,  feeling 
her  heart  rise  at  the  thought  of  leaving  him  forever.  She 
ran  off  then  to  the  door  to  conceal  her  feelings. 

**  Just  wait,"  he  said,  "  till  we  go  to  England  soon,  and 
then  I'll  show  you  what's  what." 

She  made  an  effort  to  seem  bright,  and  cast  back  at 
him  a  glance  like  bright  sun  through  mists,  as  she  said : 

"  Of  course — yes.     We  must  not  forget  *  the  dook.'  " 

She  cashed  the  check  with  satisfaction,  knowing  that 
it  took  Jack  a  long  time  to  save  two  thousand  dollars. 

When  she  rolled  down  to  the  wharf  the  next  day  in 
the  Lindon  barouche,  the  officials  on  the  steamboat's  deck 
were  impressed  with  her  magnificence  and  beauty. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


309 


For  most  men,  nothing  could  be  more  sweetly  beauti- 
ful than  her  appearance,  as  she  went  carefully  along  the 
gangway  to  the  old  Eleusinian,  and  there  was  quite  a 
competition  between  the  old  captain  and  the  young  second 
officer  as  to  who  should  show  her  more  civility. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

Comprehensive  talkers  are  apt  to  be  tiresome  when  we  are  not  athirst  for 
information  ;  but  to  be  quite  fair,  we  must  admit  that  superior  reticence  is  a 
good  deal  due  to  lack  of  matter.  Speech  is  often  barren  ;  but  silence  also 
does  not  necessarily  brood  over  a  full  nest. — George  Eliot — {Felix  Holt). 

It  did  not  take  Detective  Dearborn  long  to  find  out 
that  Jack  had  engaged  a  cab  early  in  the  morning  and  had 
then  removed  some  luggage  from  his  rooms.  This  con- 
firmed him  in  the  idea  that  the  crime  had  been  a  carefully 
planned  one.  But  his  trouble  lay  in  not  being  able  to 
find  the  driver  of  the  cab.  This  man  had  driven  off  some- 
where on  a  trip  that  took  him  apparently  out  of  town,  and 
Dearborn  began  to  wonder  whether  Jack  had  been  driven 
to  some  neighboring  town,  so  as  to  proceed  in  a  less  con- 
spicuous way  by  some  railway. 

Late  at  night,  however,  Jehu  turned  up  at  his  own 
house  very  drunk.  The  horses  had  brought  him  home 
without  being  driven.  He  had  been  down  at  Leslieville 
all  day,  with  some  "  sports,"  who  were  enjoying  a  pigeon- 
shooting  match  at  that  place,  and  who  had  retained  cabby 
at  regulation  rates  and  all  he  could  drink — a  happy  day 
for  him.  Dearborn  found  he  could  tell  him  nothing  about 
the  occurrence  of  the  morning  of  the  same  day,  or  where 
he  had  gone  with  Jack's  valises  ;  so,  perforce,  he  had  to 
let  him  sleep  it  oflf  till  morning. 

The  first  rational  account  the  detective  could  get  out 


( 


310 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


iV?5>f^^  ^ 

■fir    ' 

1  U  •' 

n-^^^: 

1  '*^-i(f«i|iff^p^i 

|.C''^v     : 

11  ,>  ^ 

^    » 

lii 


of  him  was  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  following.  He 
then  found  out  why  the  valises  had  not  been  seen  at  the 
railway  stations,  or  at  any  of  the  usual  points  of  departure. 
The  caretaker  of  the  yacht  club  could  only  tell  him,  when 
he  called,  that  Mr.  Cresswell  had  been  at  the  club  some- 
where about  noon  the  day  before,  and  had  gone  away  in 
his  boating-clothes,  rowing  east  round  the  head  of  the 
wharf  close  by. 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  said  Dearborn  to  the  caretaker, 
"  that  ivir.  Cresswell's  friends  are  alarmed  at  his  absence 
and  have  sent  me  to  look  after  him.  Would  you  know  the 
boat  he  went  in  if  you  saw  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  handle  it  frequently,  in  one  way  and 
and  another.     I  painted  it  for  him  last  spring." 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  mind  making  a  dollar,  I'd  be  glad 
if  you  would  walk  along  the  docks  and  help  me  find  it." 

"  Come  along,"  said  the  caretaker.  **  There  is  nothing 
to  do  here,  at  this  hour,  but  watch  the  club-house,  and  I 
certainly  can't  make  an  extra  dollar  doing  that.  We'll 
call  it  two  dollars  if  I  find  the  boat,  seeing  as  how  I'm 
dragged  off  from  duty." 

"  All  right,"  said  Dearborn,  who  had  carte  blanche  for 
expenses  from  the  bank. 

They  walked  off  together  at  a  good  pace. 

"  You  say  that  none  of  the  yachts  left  the  harbor  yes- 
terday ? " 

"  No.     There  they  are,  over  there,  every  one  of  them." 

"  Well,  what  size  was  the  skiff  he  wrrit  off  in  .'  " 

"  An  ordinary  fourteen-foot  shooting-skiff.  One  of  old 
Rennardson's.  You  mind  old  Rennardson  ?  He  built  a 
handy  boat,  did  the  old  man." 

"  Could  it  cross  the  lake  ?  " 

"Well  it  could,  perhaps,  on  six  days  in  the  week,  in 
summer.  Perhaps  on  the  seventh  the  best  handling  in  the 
world  wouldn't  save  her.     But  they  are  a  fine  little  boat, 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


311 


for  all  that.  I've  crossed  the  bay  myself  in  them  when 
there  was  an  all-fired  sea  runnin'." 

**  Could  it  have  crossed  the  lake  yesterday  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  Mr.  Cresswell  would  be  such  a  fool  as 
to  try.  Perhaps  he  could  have  done  it  if  anybody  could. 
But  risks  for  nothing  ain't  his  style.  Not  but  what  he'll 
run  his  chances  when  the  time  comes.  You  should  have 
seen  him  bring  in  that  Ideal  last  fall,  in  the  race  I  sailed 
with  him.  The  wind  sprung  up  heavy  in  the  afternoon. 
Lord  !  it  was  a  sight  to  see  that  boat  come  in  to  the  win- 
nin'  buoy  with  the  mast  hanging  over  her  bows  like  a 
Greek  fruiter.  You  see,  he  had  the  wind  dead  after  him, 
bio  win'  heavy,  and  he'd  piled  rags  on  to  her,  wings  and 
all,  till  she  was  in  a  blind  fury  and  goin'  through  it  like  a 
harpooned  whale.  The  owner  was  a-standing  by  him 
a-watchin'  for  everythin'  to  carry  out  of  her.  *  Jack,'  says 
he,  *  she  can't  do  it.  The  backstays  won't  do  the  work.* 
'Slack  them  up,  then,  four  inches,  and  let  the  mast  do  its 
own  part  of  the  work,'  says  Mr.  Cresswell.  And  he  kept 
on  easin'  backstays  to  give  fair  play  all  round,  till  the  mast 
was  hangin'  forward  like  a  cornstalk;  but  I'm  dummed  if 
he'd  lift  a  rag  on  her  till  she  passed  the  gun.  Perhaps 
you  don't  care  for  that  sort  of  thing.  I  follered  the  sea 
myself  formerly.  Lord  !  it  was  immense,  that  little  sail ! 
And  thirty  seconds  ain't  a  great  deal  to  win  on.  Nothin' 
but  bull-head  grit  would  ha'  done  it." 

Mr.  Dearborn  was  not  much  comforted  by  all  this  talk. 
Cresswell  might  have  crossed  the  lake  in  his  skiff.  Evi- 
dently he  was  a  man  who  would  do  it  if  he  wished.  They 
continued  their  search  on  every  wharf  and  through  every 
boat-house,  which  occupied  a  good  deal  of  time. 

Suddenly,  near  Yonge  Street  wharf,  the  caretaker  said  : 
"  Give  us  your  two  dollars,  mister.  There's  the  skiff  on 
the  deck  of  the  stone-hooker." 

Inquiries  soon  showed  that  Jack  had  gone  off  on  the 


312 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


schooner  North  Star  to  Oswego,  and  then  Mr.  Dearborn 
began  to  look  grave.  The  schooner  had  got  a  long  start. 
He  was  well  acquainted  with  all  different  routes  to  differ- 
ent places,  and  he  finally  decided  to  go  on  the  Eleusinian 
by  water  to  Oswego.  Possibly  he  might  be  able  to  come 
across  the  schooner  in  the  lake  before  she  arrived  at 
Oswego,  and  bribe  the  captain  to  land  him  and  his  pris- 
oner on  Canadian  soil,  where  his  warrant  would  be  good. 
He  had  still  half  an  hour  to  spare,  so  he  dashed  off  in  a 
cab  to  the  chief's  office,  and  wired  the  Oswego  police  to 
arrest  Jack,  on  the  arrival  of  the  North  Star,  on  the 
charge  of  bringing  stolen  money  into  the  States. 

Of  course.  Dearborn  knew  he  could  not  extradite  Jack 
from  Oswego  for  his  offense,  but  he  thought  that  after 
being  locked  up  the  money  could  be  scared  out  of  him, 
when  he  found  that  he  could  get  a  long  sentence  in  the 
States  on  the  above  charge,  which  Dearborn  knew  could 
be  proved  if  the  stolen  bills  were  found  in  his  posses- 
sion. 

If  Geoffrey  had  known  what  the  able  Mr.  Dearborn 
had  ferreted  out,  and  what  his  plans  were,  he  would  have 
felt  more  uneasy. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  it  was  interesting  to  watch 
two  very  unconcerned  people  at  the  bow  of  the  upper 
deck  of  the  Eleusinian.  The  steamer  was  making  ex- 
cellent time — plowing  into  the  eye  of  the  wind  with  all 
the  power  that  had  so  nearly  dragged  the  life  out  of  the 
poor  Ideal  in  the  preceding  summer.  Nina  was  sitting  in 
an  arm-chair,  cushioned  into  comfort  by  the  assiduous 
second  officer,  who  found  that  his  duties  much  required 
his  presence  in  that  portion  of  the  boat  where  Nina  hap- 
pened to  be.  She  was  sitting,  looking  through  the  spy- 
glasses from  time  to  time  at  every  sail  that  hove  in  sight, 
and  seeming  disinclined  to  leave  the  deck. 

Mr.  Dearborn   was  tempting  providence  by  smoking 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


313 


a  cigar  close  by.  The  steamer  went  almost  too  fast  to 
pitch  much,  but  there  was  a  decided  rise  and  fall  at  the 
bows.  He  noticed  that  the  officer  suggested  to  Nina 
that  by  sitting  further  aft  she  would  escape  some  of  the 
motion,  and  that  she  declined  the  change,  saying  she 
liked  the  breeze  and  was  a  good  sailor.  Once  they  pasi  1 
close  to  a  vessel  with  three  masts.  Dearborn  had  ascer- 
tained, before  leaving,  that  the  North  Star  had  only  two 
masts,  so  he  was  not  anxious.  Nina,  however,  knew 
nothing  about  the  rig  of  the  North  Siar,  and  she  was  up 
standing  beside  the  bulwarks  gazing  intently  through  the 
binoculars  at  the  crew.  She  seemed  disappointed  when 
she  lowered  the  glasses,  and  Dearborn  began  to  wonder 
whether  this  was  "  the  woman  in  the  case."  He  afterward 
watched  her  as  she  attempted  to  read  a  novel,  and  noticed 
that  she  continually  stopped  to  scan  the  horizon.  Still, 
nearly  every  person  does  this,  more  or  less,  and  his  idea 
rather  waned  again  as  he  thought  that  this  was  quite  too 
fine  a  person  to  bother  her  head  about  a  poor  bank-clerk 
— such  a  man  as  he  was  hunting.  Mr.  Dearborn,  per- 
haps owing  to  the  peculiar  formation  of  his  jaw,  generally 
lost  all  idea  of  the  respectability  of  a  man  as  soon  as  he 
got  on  his  trail.  He  might  have  the  benefit  of  all  doubts 
in  his  favor  until  the  warrant  for  his  arrest  was  placed  in 
Mr.  Dearborn's  hands.  After  that,  as  a  rule,  the  indi- 
vidual, whether  acquitted  or  not  at  his  subsequent  trial, 
took  no  high  stand  in  Mr.  Dearborn's  mind.  If  acquitted, 
it  was  only  the  result  of  lawyers'  trickery  ;  not  on  account 
of  innocence.  Men  who  ought  to  know  best  say  that 
if  a  prize-fighter  wishefj  to  win  he  must  actually  hate  his 
antagonist — must  fight  to  really  kill  him  ;  and  that  only 
when  he  is  entirely  disabled  is  it  time  enough  to  hope 
that  he  will  not  die.  Mr.  Dearborn,  similarly,  had  that 
tenacity  of  purpose  that  made  every  attempt  at  escape 
seem  to  double  the  culprit's  guilt,  and  in  a  hard  capture 


314 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


m 


this  supplied  him  with  that  "  gall "  which  could  meet  and 
overcome  the  desperate  courage  of  a  man  at  bay. 

Soon  another  schooner  loomed  up  in  the  moist  air  of 
the  east  wind,  and,  when  the  hull  was  visible,  Mr.  Dear- 
born approached  Nina  and  said  : 

"  Would  you  oblige  me,  madame,  by  allowing  me  to 
look  through  your  glasses  ?  " 

**  Certainly,"  said  Nina  ;  **  they  belong  to  the  ship — 
not  to  me." 

Dearborn  took  a  long  look  at  the  approaching  vessel. 
The  North  Star  had  been  described  to  him  as  having  a 
peculiar  cut-away  bow,  and  the  vessel  coming  across  their 
track  had  a  perpendicular  bow. 

Nina  then  looked  through  the  glasses  intently,  and  for 
a  moment  they  stood  beside  each  other. 

"  I  wonder  why  all  the  vessels  seem  to  be  crossing  our 
track,  instead  of  going  in  our  direction,"  she  said  to  quiet- 
looking  Mr.  Dearborn. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  sailing,  miss.  But  1  know 
that  vessels  can't  sail  straight  into  the  wind.  They  see- 
saw backward  and  forward,  first  one  way  and  then  the 
other.  How  they  get  up  against  the  wind  I  could  never 
understand.  They  are  like  lawyers,  I  think.  They  see  a 
point  ahead  of  them,  and  they  just  beat  about  the  bush 
till  they  get  there.  Some  of  these  things  are  hard  to  take 
in." 

Nina  smiled. 

"  A  good  many  of  these  vessels,"  added  Mr.  Dearborn, 
while  he  watched  his  fair  companion,  "  are  going  to  Oswe- 

go- 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Nina,  unconsciously  brightening. 

"  And  the  wind  is  ahead  for  that  trip,"  said  Dearborn. 

"  Is  it  ?  " 

Nina  had  been  round  Lake  Ontario  in  a  yacht,  and  she 

had  had  an  English  boarding-school  finish.     She  could 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


315 


have  told  the  general  course  of  the  Ganges  or  the  Hoang- 
ho,  but  she  had  no  idea  in  what  direction  she  was  going 
on  her  own  lake  to  Oswego.  In  English  schools  Canada 
is  a  land  not  worth  learning  about,  and  where  hardly 
any  person  would  live  voluntarily.  People  go  about 
chiefly  on  snow-shoes,  and  it  is  easy  in  most  places  to  kill 
enough  game  for  dinner  from  your  own  door-step. 

"  Yes,  it  would  take  a  sailing  vessel  a  long  time,  I  should 
think,  to  get  to  Oswego." 

"  How  long  do  you  suppose  ? "  asked  Nina. 

"  I  don't  really  know.  It  depends  on  the  vessel.  I 
suppose  a  smart  yacht  could  do  it  in  a  pretty  short  time. 
That  Toronto  yacht,  the  Ideal,  I  suppose,  could — " 

*'  Oh,  you  know  the  Ideal  ? " 

"  No.  She  was  pointed  out  to  me  once.  They  say 
she's  a  rare  one  to  go,  and  no  mistake.  That  young  fel- 
low, Treadwell,  that  sails  her — they  say  he  is  one  of  the 
finest  yachtsmen  in  Canada." 

*'0h,"  said  Nina,  laughing  and  blushing.  It  was 
funny  to  hear  this  quiet  stranger  praising  Jack.  She  felt 
proud  of  his  small  glory. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dearborn,  rubbing  his  forehead,  as  if  try- 
ing to  recollect.  "That's  his  name — Treadwell.  How- 
ever, it  does  not  matter." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Nina.  She  was  somewhat  more  on 
her  guard  now  against  strangers  since  her  experience  with 
the  Rev.  Matthew  Simpson.  But  evidently  this  man  did 
not  even  know  Jack's  name,  and  did  not  want  to  know  it 
for  any  reason. 

Dearborn  was  hanging  "off  and  on,"  as  sailors  say, 
thinking  that  if  she  knew  anything  about  this  Cresswell 
she  would  perhaps  give  him  a  lead.  Not  getting  any  lead, 
he  muttered  half  aloud,  by  way  of  coming  back  to  the 
point: 

"Treadwell — Treadwell — no — that's  not   the   name." 


3><5 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


?v'v; 


!»•■•'?''    ;Wfr  J-J      M 


u^^S 


'if  I 


Then  aloud.  "  It's  provoking  when  one  can  not  remem- 
ber a  name,  madame." 

He  then  fell  to  muttering  other  similar  sounding  name?, 
and  Nina  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  at  his  stupid, 
.  mild  way  of  bothering  himself  about  what  was  clearly  no 
use  to  him. 

"  Ah  !  I  have  it !  What  a  relief  it  is  to  succeed  in  a 
little  thing  like  that !     Cresswell.     That's  the  name  !  " 

The  air  of  triumph  on  the  mild-eyed  man  was  amus- 
ing, and  Nina  laughed  softly  to  herself. 

He  turned  from  gazing  over  the  water  and  saw  her 
laughing.  Then  he  smiled,  too,  as  if  he  wished  to  join  in, 
if  there  was  anything  to  laugh  at. 

**  You  are  amused,  madame.  Perhaps  you  know  this 
gentleman  quite  well — and  are  laughing  at  my  stupidity  ?" 

"  I  ought  to,"  said  Nina,  unable  to  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  paralyze  this  well-behaved  person  of  the  middle 
classes.  **  I  am  his  wife."  And  she  laughed  heartily  at 
her  little  joke. 

If  ever  a  man  did  get  a  surprise  it  was  detective  Dear- 
born. For  a  bare  instant,  it  threw  him  off  his  guard.  He 
saw  too  much  all  at  once.  Here  was  the  woman  who  per- 
haps had  all  the  $50,000  on  her  person.  He  tried  to  show 
polite  surprise  and  pleasure  at  the  intelligence ;  but  it  was 
too  late.  For  an  instant  he  had  looked  keen.  Compara- 
tively, Nina  was  brighter  nowadays.  Danger  and  decep- 
tion had  sharpened  her  faculties.  She  was  thoughtless 
enough,  certainly,  to  mention  who  she  was ;  but  she  did 
not  see  any  reason  why  she  should  not.  She  might  as 
well  call  herself  Mrs.  Cresswell  now  as  when  she  got  to 
Oswego,  where  she  would  have  to  do  so.  Mr.  Dearborn 
had  gone  almost  as  far  in  self-betrayal.  He  longed  for  a 
warrant  to  arrest  her,  and  get  the  money  from  her,  but  he 
said  in  his  subdued,  abstracted  sort  of  way  : 

"  How  strange  that  is  !     No  wonder  you  laugh !    How- 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


317 


ever,  I  said  nothing  against  him — quite  the  contrary — and 
that  is  always  a  comfort  when  we  feel  we  have  been  put- 
ting our  foot  in  it.  I  was  wondering,  Mrs.  Cresswell,  who 
you  were.  It  seemed  to  me  I  had  seen  you  on  the  street 
in  Toronto." 

He  spoke  very  politely.  No  one  could  take  any  ex- 
ception to  his  tone.  Even  when  he  made  the  following 
remark  it  did  not  seem  very  much  more  than  the  ordinary 
growth  of  a  chance  conversation  among  travelers.  He 
added  : 

"  Let  me  see — a  ?  Your  maiden  name  was — a  ?  "  He 
raised  his  eyebrows  with  would-be  polite  inquiry  ;  but  it 
did  not  work.  He  had  looked  keen  for  the  tenth  part  of 
a  second,  and  now  he  might  as  well  go  in  and  rest  him- 
self for  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

Nina  drooped  her  eyelids  coldly. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  that  is  a  matter  of  any  conse- 
quence." 

She  gave  a  little  movement,  as  if  she  drew  herself  to 
herself,  and  she  leisurely  returned  the  glasses  to  their  case, 

Mr.  Dearborn  saw  he  had  got  his  congi^  and  he  wanted 
to  kill  himself.  He  felt  rather  awkward,  and  could  not 
think  of  the  right  thing  to  say.  The  writer  of  Happy 
Thoughts  has  not  provided  mankind  with  the  best  reply 
to  a  snub  that  comes  "  straight  from  the  shoulder."  Even 
a  Chesterfield  may  be  unequal  to  the  occasion. 

*'  I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  inquisitive  ?  "  he  said 
lamely. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Nina  quickly.  She  slightly  in- 
clined her  head,  without  looking  at  him,  as  she  moved 
away  to  her  chair — not  wishing  to  appear  too  abrupt. 

She  sat  there  wondering  who  this  man  was,  and  think- 
ing she  had  been  foolish  to  say  anything  about  herself. 
The  evening  came  on  chill,  windy,  and  foggy,  and  she  grew 
strangely  lonely.     She  had  got  the  idea  that  this  man  was 


3»8 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


^'^-,": 


iK'-"^'*' 

fiif't 

IB'^  - 

^rai<> 

Bi?:-- 

watching  her.  It  made  her  very  nervous  and  wretched. 
She  longed  for  sorqe  strong  friend  to  be  with  her — sonic 
one  on  whom  she  could  rely.  Kverylhing  had  consjjirt'd 
to  depress  her  ii\  the  past  few  weeks.  She  had  now  left 
her  home  and  a  kind  father — never  to  return.  She  was 
out  in  the  world,  with  no  one  to  look  to  but  Jack.  Tills 
would  be  a  long  night  for  her,  she  thought.  She  was  too 
nervous  to  go  to  sleep.  She  felt  so  tired  of  all  the  unrest 
of  her  life.  What  would  she  not  give  to  have  all  her 
former  chances  back  before  her  again  !  How  she  longed 
for  the  mental  peace  she  had  known  until  lately.  Oh,  the 
fool  she  had  been!  the  wickedness  of  it  all!  How  she 
had  been  forced  from  one  thing  to  another  by  the  conse- 
quences of  her  fault !  She  was  terribly  wretched,  poor 
girl,  as  the  evening  wore  on.  She  went  to  her  cabin  and 
undressed  for  bed.  She  said  her  prayers  kneeling  on  the 
damp  carpet.  She  prayed  for  Jack's  safety  and  for  her  own, 
and  for  the  man  who  assisted  her  to  all  her  misery.  Still 
her  despair  and  forlornness  weighed  upon  her  more  and 
more.  The  sense  of  being  entirely  alone,  without  any 
protection  from  a  nameless  fear,  which  the  idea  of  being 
watched  all  day  by  an  unknown  man  greatly  increased ; 
the  terrible  doubt  about  everything  in  the  future — all  this 
culminated  in  an  absolute  terror.  She  lay  in  bed  and  tried 
to  pray  again,  and  then  an  idea  she  acquired  when  a 
child  came  to  her,  that  prayers  were  unavailing  unless  said 
while  kneeling  on  the  hard  floor.  In  all  her  terror,  the 
conviction  of  wickedness  almost  made  her  faint,  and  to 
make  things  worse,  she  got  those  awful  words  into  her 
head,  ''the  wages  of  sin  is  death,"  and  she  could  not  get 
them  out.  Yielding  to  the  idea  .at  her  prayers  would  be 
better  if  said  kneeling,  she  climbed  out  panic-stricken  to 
the  cold  floor,  which  chilled  her  to  the  bone,  and  terri- 
fied by  the  words  ringing  in  her  hc:^'^  she  almost  shrieked 
aloud : 


GEOFFREY    IIAMPSTEAD. 


3»^ 


**0  God,  take  those  words  away  from  me  !  O  (iod, 
thou  knowest  1  have  suffered  !  O  God,  1  am  terrified  !  1 
am  alone.  O  God,  protect  me  !  Forgive  me  all  things, 
for  1  do  repent." 

Here  she  felt  that  if  she  prayed  any  more  she  would 
be  hysterical  and  beyond  her  own  control.  She  crept 
back  into  bed  ;  but  all  she  could  think  of  until  she  dropped 
to  sleep,  exhausted,  was,  "  The  wages  of  sin  is  death — The 
wages  of  sin — is  Death'' 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

Brutus  :  O  that  a  i        might  know 

The  end  of  this  day's  bu.sine^  it  come  I 

But  It  sufficelh  that  the  day  will  end, 

And  then  the  end  iH  known. 

Julius  Casar. 

When  Jack  got  on  board  the  North  Star  he  found 
that,  although  he  had  shipped  as  working  passenger,  the 
wily  mate  had  taken  him  as  one  of  the  crew,  with  the  in- 
tention, doubtless,  of  pocketing  the  wages  which  otherwise 
would  have  gone  to  the  sailor  who  would  have  been  em- 
ployed. Several  of  the  sailors  were  rather  intoxicated,  and 
the  rest  were  just  getting  over  a  spree.  They  came  down 
into  the  forecastle  just  before  leaving,  and  seeing  Jack 
there,  whom  they  did  not  know,  were  very  silent.  One  of 
them  at  last  said  : 

"  Is  every  man  here  a  Union  man  ?  " 

Jack  knew  he  was  not,  and  that,  being  ignorant  of  se- 
cret signs,  he  would  perhaps  be  found  out.  He  answered, 
"  I  don't  belong  to  the  Union." 

The  man  who  spoke  first  then  said  sulkily  :  "  That 
settles  it  ;   I'm  going  ashore.      The  rules  says  that  no 


320 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAIX 


njs^.wi. 


U- 


member  shall  sail  on  a  vessel  if  there  is  any  scab  on 
board." 

Jack  understood  from  this,  after  a  moment's  thought, 
that  this  expression  must  refer  to  one  who  did  not  avail 
himself  of  the  healthy  privileges  of  the  Sailors'  Union. 

He  explained  that  he  was  only  going  as  a  passenger, 
and  was  not  under  pay. 

This  seemed  to  make  the  matter  satisfactory,  and  after 
the  malcontent  quieted  down  they  all  got  to  work  peace- 
fully. It  took  them  a  long  time  to  get  all  the  canvas  set 
while  the  tug  towed  the  vessel  out  of  and  beyond  the 
harbor. 

Jack  found  he  was  no  match  for  these  men  in  the  toil 
of  making  heavy  canvas.  He  felt  like  a  child  among 
them.  The  halyards  were  so  large  and  coarse  to  the 
touch,  and  after  being  exposed  to  the  weather,  their  fiber 
was  like  fine  wire  and  ate  into  his  hands  painfully,  al- 
though the  latter  were  well  enough  seasoned  for  yachting 
work.  His  hands  almost  refused  to  hold  the  ropes  when 
they  had  got  thoroughly  scalded  in  the  work,  and  by  the 
time  all  the  canvas  was  set  he  was  ready  to  drop  on  the 
deck  with  exhaustion. 

He  was  on  the  mate's  watch.  This  man  saw  that,  al- 
though Tack  was  physically  inferior,  his  knowledge  seemed 
all  right.  This  uzzled  the  sailors.  He  was  dressed  in 
clothes  which  had  looked  rough  and  plebeian  on  the  Ideal, 
but  here  he  was  far  too  well  dressed.  If  there  were  tears 
in  his  clothes  and  in  his  hat,  there  were  no  patches  any- 
where, and  this  seemed  to  ht^  prima  facie  ^z.  suspicious  cir- 
cumstance. He  regretted  that  his  clothes  were  not  down 
to  the  standard.  After  being  reviled  on  the  yachts  be- 
cause they  were  so  disreputable,  he  now  felt  that  they  were 
so  particularly  aristocratic  that  he  longed  for  the  garments 
of  a  tramp.  He  saw  that  if  the  sailors  suspected  that  he  was 
not  one  of  themselves  by  profession  they  would  send  him 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


321 


to  Coventry  for  the  rest  of  the  trip.  This  would  be  un- 
pleasant, for  as  the  men  got  sober  they  proved  good- 
humored  fellows  in  their  way,  although  full  of  cranks  and 
queer  ideas. 

At  eight  bells,  on  the  first  night.  Jack  came  on  d'-ck  in 
a  long  ulster,  which,  although  used  for  duck-shooting  and 
sailing  for  five  years  since  it  last  saw  King  Street,  was  still 
painfully  whole.  The  vessel  was  lying  over  pretty  well 
and  thrashing  through  the  waves  in  creditable  style.  The 
watch  just  going  off  duty  had  "  put  it  up  "  with  the  mate 
that  Jack  should  be  sent  aloft  to  stow  the  fore-gafftopsail. 

They  could  not  make  Jack  out.  And  when  he  went 
up  the  weather-rigging,  after  slipping  out  of  the  ulster, 
every  man  on  board  except  the  captain  was  covertly  watch- 
ing him — woiidering  how  he  would  get  through  the  task. 
The  topsail  had  been  "  clewed  up "  at  the  masthead— 
and  was  banging  about  in  the  strong  wind  like  a  suspended 
Chinese  lantern. 

Suppose  a  person  were  to  tie  together  the  four  corners 
of  a  new  drawing-room  carpet,  and  were  then  to  hoist  it 
in  this  shape  to  the  top  of  a  tall  pine  tree  bending  in  the 
wind  to  an  angle  of  thirty  degrees.  Let  him  now  climb 
up,  and  with  a  single  long  line  master  the  banging  mass 
by  winding  the  line  tightly  around  it  from  the  top  down  to 
the  bottom,  and  afterward  secure  the  long  bundle  to  the 
side  of  the  tree.  If  this  be  done,  by  way  of  experiment, 
while  the  seeker  after  knowledge  holds  himself  on  as  best 
he  can  by  his  legs,  and  performs  the  operation  on  a  black 
night  entirely  by  the  sense  of  touch  he  will  understand  part 
of  what  our  lake  sailors  have  to  do. 

Jack,  to  say  truly,  had  all  he  wanted.  The  sail  was  a 
new  one.  The  canvas  and  the  bolt-ropes  '.vere  so  stiff  as 
to  almost  defy  his  strength.  But  he  got  it  done  and  de- 
scended, tired  enough.  All  hands  were  satisfied  that  he 
knew  a  good  deal,  and  yet  they  said  they  were  sure  he  was 
ai 


(' 


ill's    , 

Wi 

mi 


;'  il^ 


'17  s^^i' 


322 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


"not  quite  the  clean  wheat."  The  ulster  had  been  very 
damaging. 

The  evening  of  the  second  day  saw  them  still  working 
down  the  lake,  and  having  had  some  favorable  slants  of 
wind  they  had  got  well  on  their  way.  As  Jack's  watch 
went  below  at  midnight,  a  fog  had  settled  over  the  sea, 
and  he  was  glad  to  get  down  out  of  the  cold,  and  have  a 
comfortable  smoke  before  turning  into  his  old  camping 
blankets  for  the  rest  of  his  four  hours  off. 

By  the  light  of  a  bad-smelling  tin  lamp  nailed  against 
the  Samson-post,  and  sitting  on  a  locker  beside  one  of  the 
swinging  anchor  chains  that  came  down  through  the  hawse 
pipe  from  the  deck  above  into  the  fore-peak  under  the 
man's  feet,  one  of  the  sailors  fell  to  telling  one  of  his 
many  adventures  on  the  lakes.  There  was  no  attempt  at 
humor  in  this  story.  It  was  a  simple,  artless  tale  of  deadly 
peril,  cold,  exhaustion,  and  privation  on  our  inland  sea. 
It  was  told  with  a  terrible  earnestness,  born  of  a  realization 
of  the  awful  anxiety  that  had  stamped  upon  his  perfect 
memory  every  little  detail  that  occurred. 

This  was  an  experience  when,  in  the  inonth  of  Decem- 
ber, the  schooner  he  was  then  sailing  on  had  been  sent  on 
a  last  trip  from  Oswego  to  Toronto.  They  had  almost  got 
around  the  Lighthouse  Point  at  Toronto,  after  a  desper- 
ately cold  passage,  when  a  gale  struck  them,  and,  not  be- 
ing able  to  carry  enough  canvas  to  weather  the  point,  they 
were  thus  driven  down  the  lake  again  with  the  sails  either 
blown  from  the  bolt-ropes  or  split  to  ribbons,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  bit  of  the  foresail,  with  which  they  ran  before 
the  wind.  To  go  to  South  Bay  would  probably  mean  being 
frozen  in  all  winter,  and  perhaps  the  loss  of  the  ship,  so 
the  captain  headed  for  Oswego,  hoping  the  snow  and  sleet 
would  clear  off  to  enable  them  to  see  the  harbor  when  they 
got  there.  On  the  way  down  a  huge  sea  came  over  the 
stern,  stove  in  the  cabin,  and  smashed  the  compasses. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


323 


"  We  hedn't  kept  no  dead  reckonin',  an'  we  cudn't  tell 
anyways  how  fast  we  wus  goin*.  We  just  druv'  on  afore 
it  for  hours.  Cudn't  see  more'n  a  vessel's  length  any- 
wheres for  snow,  and,  as  for  ice,  we  wus  makin'  ice  on 
top  of  her  like  you'd  think  we  wus  a-loadin'  ice  from  a 
elevator;  we  wus  just  one  of  '  Greenland's  icy  mountings* 
gone  adrift.  Waal,  the  old  man  guv  it  up  at  last,  and  ac- 
knowledged the  corn  right  up  and  up.  Says  he,  *  Boys, 
she's  a  goner.  We've  druv'  down  below  and  past  Oswego, 
and  that's  the  last  of  her.'  " 

**  This  looked  pretty  bad — fur  the  old  man  to  collapse 
all  up  like  this  ;  fur  all  on  yer  knows  as  well  as  I  do  that 
to  get  down  below  Oswego  in  a  westerly  gale  in  December 
means  that  naathin'  is  goin'  to  survive  but  the  insurance. 
There's  no  harbors,  ner  shelter,  ner  lifeboats,  ner  naathin'. 
Yer  anchors  are  no  more  use  to  yer  off  that  shore  than  a 
busted  postage-stamp.  Thet's  the  time,  boys,  fur  to  jine 
the  Salvation  Army  and  trample  down  Satan  under  yer 
feet  and  run  her  fur  the  shore  and  pray  to  God  for  a  soft 
spot  and  lots  of  power  fer  to  drive  her  well  up  into  a 
farm. 

"  Waal,  gents,  the  old  man  tuckered  out,  and  went  off 
to  his  cabin  fur  to  make  it  all  solid  with  his  'eavenly  par- 
ents, and  two  or  three  of  us  chaps  as  hed  been  watchin* 
things  pretty  close  come  to  the  conclusion  thet  we  hedn't 
got  below  Oswego  yet.  So  we  all  went  in  a  body,  as  a 
kind  o'  depitation  from  ourselves,  and  says  us  to  the  old 
man  :  '  Hev  you  guv  up  the  nevigation  of  this  vessel  ?  be- 
cus,  ef  yer  hev,  there's  others  here  as  wud  like  to  take  a 
whack  at  play  in'  captain.' 

"  *  All  right,*  says  the  old  man  from  his  knees  (fur  he 
was  down  gettin*  the  prayers  ready-made  out  of  a  book), 
*  I've  guv  her  up,'  says  he ;  *  do  you  jibe  your  fores'l  and 
head  her  fur  the  sutherd  and  look  out  for  a  soft  spot.  Yer 
kin  do  what  yer  likes  with  her.'  V 


324 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


I' 


**  So  we  jibes  the  fores'l  then,  just  puttin'  the  wheel 
over  and  lettin*  the  wind  do  the  rest  of  it,  fer  there  was 
six  inches  of  ice  on  to  the  sheets,  and  yer  couldn't  touch  a 
line  anywheres  unless  yer  got  in  to  it  with  a  axe.  Waal, 
the  old  fores'l  flickers  across  without  carryin*  away  naath- 
in',  and,  just  as  we  did  this,  another  vessel  heaves  right 
across  the  course  we  hed  been  a-driven'on.  Our  helm  was 
over  and  the  ship  was  a-swingin*  when  we  sighted  her,  or 
else  we'd  have  cut  her  in  two  like  a  bloomin'  cowcumber. 
And  then  we  seed  our  chance.  That  ere  vessel  was  goin* 
along,  on  the  full  kioodle,  with  every  appearance  of  know- 
in'  where  she  was  goin'  to — which  we  didn't.  '  Hooray ! ' 
says  we,  *  we  ain't  below  Oswego  yet,  and  that  vessel  will 
show  us  the  road.  She's  got  the  due  course  from  some- 
wheres,  and  she's  our  only  chance.' 

"And  we  foUered  her.  You  can  bet  your  Sunday 
pants  we  was  everlastin'ly  right  on  her  track.  She  was  all 
we  hed,  boys,  'tween  us  and  th'  etarnal  never-endin 
psalm.  Death  seemed  like  a  awful  cold  passage  that  time, 
boys  !  We  wus  all  frost-bit  and  froze  up  ginerally  ;  and 
clothes  weren't  no  better'n  paper  onto  us." 

"  But  she  had  a  /eet/e  more  fores'l  onto  her  than  we 
hed  ;  and  after  a  while  she  begun  to  draw  away  from  us. 
We  hed  naathin'  left  more  to  set  fer  to  catch  up  with  her. 
We  hollered  to  make  her  ease  up,  but  she  paid  no  atten- 
tion. Guess  she  didn't  hear,  or  thought  we  hed  our  com- 
passes all  right — which  we  hedn't.  Waal,  gents,  it  was  a 
awful  time.  Our  last  chance  was  disappearin'  in  the  snow- 
storm, and  there  wus  us  left  there,  'most  froze  to  death, 
and  not  knowin'  where  to  go.  Yer  cudn't  see  her,  thro' 
the  snow,  more'n  two  lengths  ahead ;  and,  when  she  got 
past  that,  all  yer  cud  see  was  the  track  of  her  keel  in  the 
water  right  under  our  bows.  Well,  fellows,  I  got  down 
furrud  on  the  chains,  and  we  'stablished  a  line  o'  signals 
from  me  along  the  i^st  of  them  to  the  man  at  the  wheel. 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


325 


If  I  once  lost  that  track  in  the  water  we  wus  done  forever. 
Sometimes  I  wus  afeared  I  hed  lost  it,  and  then  I  got  it 
again,  and  then  it  seemed  to  grow  weaker  ;  and  I  thought 
a  little  pray  to  God  would  do  no  harm.  And  I  lifts  up  my 
hand — so — " 

The  man  had  left  his  seat  and  was  cro^aching  on  the 
floor  as  he  told  this  part  of  the  story.  The  words  rolled 
out  with  a  terrific  energy  as  he  glared  down  at  the  floor, 
stooping  in  the  attitude  in  which  he  had  watched  the  track 
in  the  water.  The  tones  of  his  voice  had  a  wild  terror  in 
them  that  thrilled  Jack  to  the  very  core,  and  made  him 
feel  as  if  he  could  not  breathe. 

"  And  I  lifts  up  me  hand — so  (and,  gents,  I  wus  lookin* 
at  that  streak  in  the  water.  I  want  yer  to  understand  I 
was  a-lookin'  at  it).  And  I  lifts  up  me  hand — so — and  I 
says  *  Holy  Christ,  don't  let  that  vessel  get  off  no  farder- 
er— ' " 

The  story  was  never  finished. 

A  sound  came  to  them  that  seemed  to  Jack  to  be  only 
a  continuation  of  the  horror  of  the  story  he  had  heard.  A 
crash  sounded  through  the  ship  and  they  were  all  knocked 
off  their  seats  into  the  forepeak  with  a  sudden  shock.  They 
tumbled  up  on  deck  in  a  flash,  and  there  they  saw  that  a 
great  steamer  had  mounted  partly  on  top  of  the  schooner's 
counter.  The  mainmast  had  gone  over  the  side  to  lee- 
ward. 

The  schooner  had  been  about  to  cross  the  steamer's 
course  when  they  first  saw  her  lights  in  the  fog,  and,  part- 
ly mistaking  her  direction,  the  sailing  captain  had  put  his 
ship  about.  This  brought  the  stern  of  the  schooner,  as 
she  swung  in  stays,  directly  in  line  with  the  course  of  the 
steamer.  The  steamer's  helm  was  put  hard  over,  and  the 
engines  were  reversed,  but  not  until  within  fifty  feet  of  the 
schooner.  The  stern  of  the  schooner  swung  around  as  she 
turned  to  go  off  on  the  other  tack,  so  that,  although  the 


I,... , 


326 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


1 1' 

1; 


Stem  or  cutwater  of  the  steamer  got  past,  the  counter  of 
the  schooner  was  struck  and  forced  through  the  steamer's 
starboard  bow  under  the  false  sides.  When  they  struck, 
the  schooner's  stern  was  depressed  in  the  seaway  and  the 
steamer's  bow  was  high  in  the  air,  so  that  the  latter  re- 
ceived a  deadly  blow  which  tore  a  hole  about  six  feet  high 
by  ten  long  in  her  bow.  Both  boats  went  ahead  together, 
chiefly  owing  to  the  momentum  of  the  huge  steamer.  And 
for  a  moment  the  steamer's  false  sides  rested  on  what  was 
left  of  the  schooner's  counter  on  the  port  side.     . 

A  man  leaning  over  from  the  upper  deck  of  the 
steamer  cried : 

*'  What  schooner  is  that  ?  " 

"  Schooner  North  Star,  of  Toronto,"  was  the  reply. 

The  man  vaulted  over  the  bulwarks  and  slid  actively 
down  the  sloping  side  of  the  steamer  to  the  deck  of  the 
schooner  and  looked  around  him.  No  sooner  had  he 
done  so  than  the  motion  of  the  waves  parted  the  two 
boats.  The  steamer  ceased  to  move  ahead.  The  forward 
canvas  of  the  schooner  had  caught  the  wind  and  she  was 
beginning  to  pay  off  on  the  port  tack,  the  mainmast,  main- 
sail, and  rigging  dragging  in  the  water. 

Jack,  who  was  filled  with  helpless  anxiety,  then  dis- 
covered that  the  steamer  was  the  Eleusinian.  At  the 
same  moment  he  heard  a  shriek  from  the  bow  of  the 
steamer  and  there  he  saw  Nina,  her  long  hair  driving  be- 
hind her,  beckoning  him  to  come  to  help  her.  The 
steamer,  filling  like  a  broken  bottle,  had  already  taken  one 
lurch  preparatory  to  going  down  and  Jack  yelled  : 

"  Jump,  Nina  !  Jump  into  the  water  and  I  will  save 
you  ! " 

But  Nina,  not  knowing  that  the  steamer  was  going 
down,  had  not  the  courage  to  cast  herself  into  the  black 
heaving  waves. 

Jack  saw  this  hesitation,  and  yelled  to  her  again  to 


'I 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


327 


jump.  He  made  fast  the  end  of  a  coil  of  light  line,  and 
then  sprang  to  the  bulwarks  to  jump  overboard  so  that 
when  he  swam  to  the  bows  of  the  steamer  Nina  could 
jump  into  the  water  near  him. 

He  knew  without  looking  that  the  schooner,  with  i.o 
after-canvas  set,  could  do  nothing  at  present  but  fall  off 
and  drift  away  before  the  wind,  as  she  was  now  doing, 
and  as  her  one  yawl  boat  had  been  smashed  to  dust  in  the 
collision,  the  only  chance  for  Nina  was  for  him  to  have  a 
line  in  his  hand  whereby  to  regain  the  schooner  as  it 
drifted  off.  It  was  a  wild  moment  for  Jack,  but  his  nerve 
was  equal  to  the  occasion.  While  he  belayed  the  end  of 
the  light  line  to  a  ring  on  the  bulwarks,  he  called  to  his 
mates  on  the  schooner  to  let  go  everything  and  douse 
their  forward  canvas. 

It  takes  a  long  time  even  to  read  what  had  to  be  done. 
What  Jack  did  was  done  in  a  moment ;  but  as  he  sprang 
to  the  bulwarks  to  vault  over  the  side,  a  strong  pair  of 
arms  seized  him  from  behind  and  held  him  like  a  vice 
with  his  arms  at  his  sides. 

"  Let  me  go,"  he  cried,  as  he  struggled  in  the  grasp  of 
a  stranger. 

"  No,  sir.  You're  wanted.  I  have  had  trouble  enough 
to  get  you  without  letting  you  drown  yourself." 

Jack  struggled  wildly ;  but  the  more  frantic  he  became 
the  more  he  roused  the  detective  to  ferocity.  He  heaved 
forward  to  throw  Dearborn  over  his  head  ;  but  the  two 
fell  together,  crashing  their  heads  upon  the  deck,  where 
they  writhed  convulsively. 

The  iron  grip  never  relaxed.  At  last  Jack,  lifting 
Dearborn  with  him,  got  on  his  feet  and,  seizing  something 
on  the  bulwarks  to  hold  himself  in  position,  he  stopped  his 
efforts  to  escape.  "  For  God's  sake,"  he  cried  brokenly, 
"  for  Christ's  sake,  let  me  go !  See,  there  she  is  !  She  is 
going  to  02  my  wife ! 


»> 


, 


h 


1  i 


ii : 


I* 


ifl! 


32S 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


In  his  excitement  Dearborn  forgot  that  the  woman  on 
the  steamer  might  have  the  stolen  money  with  her.  To 
him  Jack's  jumping  overboard  promised  certain  death  and 
the  loss  of  a  prisoner. 

As  Jack  tried  to  point  to  Nina,  who  was  clasping  the 
little  flag-pole  at  the  bow  of  the  steamer — a  white  figure  in 
the  surrounding  gloom,  waving  and  apparently  calling  to 
him — he  saw  the  steamer  take  a  slow,  sickening  lurch  for- 
ward, and  then  a  long  lurch  aft.  The  bows  rose  high  in 
the  air,  with  that  poor  desolate  figure  clasping  the  flag- 
pole, and  then  the  Eleusinian  slowly  disappeared. 

For  an  instant  the  bows  remained  above  the  surface 
while  the  air  escaped  from  the  interior,  and  the  last  that 
could  be  seen  was  the  white  figure  clinging  desperately  to 
the  little  mast  as  if  forsaken  by  all.  No  power  had  an- 
swered her  agonies  of  prayer  for  deliverance. 

After  the  strong  man  who  had  pinioned  Jack  saw  the 
vessel  go  down,  he  became  aware  that  he  was  holding  his 
culprit  up  rather  than  down.  He  looked  around  at  his 
face,  and  there  saw  a  pair  of  staring  eyes  that  discerned 
nothing.  He  laid  him  on  the  deck  then,  and  finally  placed 
him  in  the  after-cabin  on  the  floor.  Jack  did  not  regain 
consciousness.  His  breathing  returned  only  to  allow  a 
delirium  to  supervene.  Dearborn  and  a  sailor  had  again 
to  hold  him,  or  he  would  have  plunged  over  the  bulwarks, 
thinking  the  steamer  had  not  yet  sunk. 

The  captain's  wife,  who  had  been  sleeping  in  the  extra 
berth  off  the  after-cabin,  had  been  crushed  between  the 
timbers  when  the  collision  took  place,  and  under  the  fran- 
tic orders  of  the  captain  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  trying 
to  extricate  the  screaming  woman.  The  mate  had  been 
disabled  in  the  falling  of  the  mainmast,  so  that  no  attempts 
were  made  to  save  those  who  were  left  swimming  when 
the  Eleusinian  went  down,  and  the  schooner,  under  her 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEaD. 


329 


forward  canvas,  sailed  off,  dragging  her  wreckage  after 
her,  slowly,  of  course,  but  faster  than  any  one  could  swim. 
Thus  no  one  was  saved  from  the  steamer  except  the  de- 
tective, who  had  not  thought  of  saving  his  own  life  when 
he  had  dropped  to  the  deck  of  the  schooner,  but  only  of 
seizing  Jack. 

The  mate  was  able,  after  a  time,  to  give  his  directions 
while  lying  on  the  deck.  The  wreckage  was  chopped 
away,  and  the  vessel  was  brought  nearer  the  wind  to  raise 
the  injured  port  quarter  well  above  the  waves  until  canvas 
could  be  nailed  over  the  gaping  aperture.  When  this  was 
done  they  squared  away  before  the  wind,  hoisted  the 
center-board,  and  made  good  time  up  the  lake.  They  had 
a  fair  wind  to  Port  Dalhousie — the  only  place  available  for 
dockyards  and  refitting — where  they  arrived  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  day. 

After  raving  in  delirium  until  they  arrived  at  Port 
Dalhousie,  Jack  fell  off  then  into  a  sleep,  and  when  the 
Empress  of  India  was  ready  to  leave  at  four  o'clock  for 
Toronto,  Dearborn  woke  him  up  and  found  that  his  con- 
sciousness seemed  to  have  partly  returned.  The  detective 
was  pleased  that  the  disabled  vessel  had  sought  a  Canadian 
port,  where  his  warrant  for  Jack's  arrest  was  good.  How- 
ever, the  prisoner  made  no  resistance,  and  at  nine  o'clock 
he  was  duly  locked  up  at  Toronto,  having  remained  in  a 
sort  of  stupor  from  which  nothing  could  arouse  him. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

The  time  is  out  of  joint ;— O  cursed  spite. 

That  I  was  ever  bom  to  set  it  rig;ht. 

Hamlet, 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  on  that  day  when  the  bank 
lost  its  $50,000,  Geoffrey  Hampsted  was  back  at  his  work 


330 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


I 


'¥  i] 

-  ffa 

M 

1^* 

M 

bi4 

r^'ll 

'  ?•*! 

E  I'i 

wis*l 

r^i 

f^-i 

as  usual.  He  did  not  change  his  waistcoat  while  at  his 
rooms,  because  he  thought  this  might  be  remarked.  He 
merely  left  the  money  there,  and  went  back  to  his  work  as 
if  nothing  had  happened.  The  excitement  among  the 
clerks  in  the  bank  was  feverish.  Geoffrey  let  them  know 
what  he  and  Dearborn  had  seen  in  Jack's  room,  and  that 
the  confusion  there  clearly  showed  that  he  had  gone  off 
somewhere.  Most  faces  looked  black  at  this,  but  there 
were  several  who,  in  spite  of  the  worst  appearances,  re- 
fused to  believe  in  Jack's  guilt.  Geoffrey  was  one  of  them. 
Geoffrey  was  quite  broken  down.  Everybody  felt  sorry 
for  him.  He  had  made  a  great  friend  of  Jack,  and  every 
one  could  see  that  the  blow  had  almost  prostrated  him. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  afternoon  he  said  to  a  couple 
of  his  friends  :  "  I  wish  you  fellows  would  dine  with  me 
to-night.     I  feel  as  if  I  had  to  have  somebody  with  me." 

These  two  did  so.  In  the  evening  they  picked  up 
some  more  of  the  bank  men,  and  all  repaired  to  Geoffrey's 
quarters.  They  saw  he  was  drinking  heavily,  and  per- 
haps out  of  fellow-feeling  for  a  man  who  had  had  a  blow, 
they  also  drank  a  good  deal  themselves,  and  lapsed  into 
hilarity,  partly  in  order  to  draw  Geoffrey  out  of  his  gloom. 

At  one  o'clock  the  night  was  still  young  so  far  as  they 
were  concerned,  and  the  liquor  in  the  rooms  had  run  short. 
Geoffrey  did  not  wish  to  be  left  alone.  The  noise  and 
foolishness  of  his  friends  diverted  his  thoughts  from  more 
unpleasant  subjects.  When  the  wine  ran  out,  he  said  they 
must  have  some  more.  They  said  it  would  be  impossible 
to  get  it ;  but  Geoffrey  said  Patsey  Priest  could  procure  it, 
and  he  rang  on  Mrs.  Priest's  bell  until  Patsey  appeared, 
looking  like  a  disheveled  monkey.  He  was  received  with 
an  ovation,  Geoffrey  gave  him  the  money,  and  se^t  him 
to  a  neighboring  large  hotel  to  get  a  case  of  champagne. 
When  he  returned,  having  accomplished  his  errand,  the 
young  gentlemen  were  enthusiastic  over  him.     He  was 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


331 


made  to  stand  on  a  table  and  take  an  affidavit  on  an  album 
that  he  had  brought  the  right  change  back.  Then  some 
jackass  said  a  collection  must  be  taken  up  for  Patsey,  and 
he  headed  the  list  with  a  dollar.  Of  course,  everybody  else 
gave  a  dollar  also,  because  this  was  such  a  fine  idea.  Mr. 
St.  George  Le  Mesurier  Hector  Northcote  was  delighted 
with  Patsey.  "  Mr.  Priest,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  gentle- 
man and  a  man  of  finish  ;  but  it  grieves  me  to  notice  that 
your  garments,  although  compatible  with  genius,  do  not, 
of  themselves,  suggest  that  luxury  which  genius  should 
command.  Wait  here  for  a  moment ;  you  must  be  clad  in 
costly  raiment." 

Mr.  St.  G.  Le  M.  H.  Northcote  darted  unsteadily, 
not  to  say  lurched,  into  Geoffrey's  room,  looking  for  that 
**  very  dreadful  waistcoat "  which  he  had  been  pained  to 
see  Geoffrey  wearing  during  the  day.  He  found  it  at  once 
in  a  closet,  and,  wrapping  it  in  among  several  trousers  and 
coats  which  he  had  selected  at  random,  he  came  out  again 
with  the  bundle  in  his  hand. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  with  my  clothes  ?  "  asked 
Geoffrey,  rising  good-humoredly,  but  inwardly  nervous, 
and  going  toward  the  bedroom  as  Northcote  came  out. 

**  I  am  going  to  give  them  to  a  gentleman  whose  station 
in  life  is  not  properly  typified  in  his  garb." 

Geoffrey  did  not  see  the  waistcoat  lying  inside  one  of 
the  coats  in  the  bundle,  and  so  he  thought  it  better  to  humor 
the  idea  than  run  any  chances.  He  had  taken  off  this  ob- 
jectionable article  before  going  to  dinner,  intending  to 
come  back  and  burn  it  when  he  had  more  time. 

He  took  the  bundle  from  Northcote  and  handed  it  to 
Patsey  as  he  dragged  that  individual  to  the  door.  "  Here," 
he  said.  "  Don't  come  down  in  rags  to  my  room  again. 
Now,  get  out." 

Patsey  disappeared  hurriedly  through  the  door.  He 
had  his  own  opinion  of  these  young  men  who  were  so 


I' 


0 


t  .ti^k-iP 


*    J? 


332 


GEOFFREY    HAMHSTEAD. 


ready  to  pay  for  the  pleasure  of  knocking  him  about,  and 
if  he  had  been  required  to  classify  mammalia  he  would 
not  have  ai)plicd  the  old  name  of  /wmc?  sapiens  to  any  spc- 
ics  to  which  they  belonged. 

The  next  day,  to  kill  time  during  the  anxious  hours, 
Geoffrey  went  ^"t  yachting  with  Dusenall  and  several  oth- 
ers. As  the  w  i'cU  off,  they  did  not  reach  the  moorings 
again  until  late  in  the  evening,  when  they  dined  at  the 
club-house  on  the  island,  and  slept  on  the  Ideal  instead  of 
going  home.  After  an  early  breakfast  the  next  morning 
they  were  rowed  across  the  bay,  and  Geoffrey  reached  the 
bank  at  the  usual  time. 

In  this  way,  having  been  away  from  town  all  night,  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  news  that  had  spread  like  wildfire 
through  certain  circles  on  the  previous  night,  that  Jack 
Cresswell  had  been  arested  and  brought  to  Toronto.  The 
first  person  wh'  ^  he  met  at  the  door  of  the  bank  was  the 
omnipresent  ]  :tive  Dearborn,  who  smiled  and  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  the  news. 

"  What  news  ?  "  asked  Geoffrey,  his  eyes  growing  small. 

"Why,  this,"  he  replied,  handing  Geoffrey  one  of  the 

morning  papers,  which  he  had  not  yet  seen.     Geoffrey 

read  the  following,  printed  in  very  large  type,  on  the  first 

page  : 

CLEVER  CAPTURE! 

JACK  CRESSWELL,  THE  VICTORIA  BANK  ROBBER  ARRESTED  ! 

THE   STOLEN   $50,000   SUPPOSED   TO  BK   NOW   RECOVERED  ! 
EXCITING  CHASE  AND  EXTRAORDINARY  DETECTIVE  WORK  ! 

A  bull's-eye   for  DETECTIVE   DEARBORN  ! 
PRISONER   CAPTURED   DURING  A  COLLISION   BETWEEN  TWO   VESSELS! 

WRECK   OF   THE   STEAMER   ELEUSINIAN  !  ! 

ALL   ON   BOARD   LOST  !  ! 

EXCEPT  THE  WILY  DETECTIVE, 

GREAT   EXCITEMENT  !  ! 

FURTHER  DISCLOSURES  ABOUT  THE  BANK  !  ! ! 

THE  BLOATED  ARISTOCRACY  SHAKEN  TO  ITS  FOUNDATIONS  ! ! !  I 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


333 


Detective  Dearborn,  on  his  arrival  in  Toronto,  was  so 
certain  of  convicting  his  prisoner  that  he  threw  the  hungry 
newspaper  reporters  some  choice  and  tempting  morceaux. 
And,  from  the  little  that  he  gave  them,  they  built  up  such 
an  interesting  and  imaginative  article  that  one  was  forced 
to  think  of  the  scientific  society  described  by  Bret  Harte, 
when  Mr.  Brown — 

Reconstructed  there, 
From  those  same  bones  an  animal  that  was  extremely  rare. 


Indeed,  from  the  glowing  colors  in  which  the  detective's 
chase  was  painted,  from  the  many  allusions  to  Jack's  high 
standing  in  society  and  his  terrible  downfall,  from  a  full 
description  of  Jack  as  being  the  petted  darling  of  all  the 
unwise  virgins  of  the  upper  ten,  and  from  the  way  that 
the  name  of  Jack  was  familiarly  bandied  about,  one  neces- 
sarily ended  the  article  with  a  disbelief  in  any  form  of 
respectability,  especially  in  the  upper  classes,  and  with  a 
profound  conviction  that  society  generally  was  rotten  to 
the  core.  The  name  *'  Jack  "  seemed  now  to  have  a  crim- 
inal sound  about  it,  and  reminded  the  reader  of  "  Thimble- 
rig  Jack  "  and  "  Jack  Sheppard,"  and  other  notorieties  who 
have  done  much  to  show  that  people  called  "  Jack  "  should 
be  regarded  with  suspicion. 

Mr.  Dearborn  watched  GeofTrey's  face  as  he  glanced 
over  the  newspaper.  Dearborn  had  a  sort  of  an  idea  from 
all  he  could  learn,  that  Jack  had  had  a  longer  head  than  his 
owii  to  back  him  up,  and,  for  reasons  which  need  not  be 
mentioned  now,  he  suspected  that  there  was  more  than 
one  in  this  business. 

However,  Geoffrey  knew  that  he  was  being  watched, 
and  his  nerve  was  still  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  turned 
white,  as  a  matter  of  course — so  did  everybody  in  the  bank 
— and  Dearborn  got  no  points  from  his  face. 

Geoffrey  handed  him  back  the  paper,  and  said  comi 


334 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


miseratingly :  "  Poor  Jack,  he  has  dished  himself,  sure 
enough,  this  time." 

Dearborn  served  him  then  with  a  subpoena  to  attend 
the  hearing  before  the  police  magistrate  at  an  hour  which 
was  then  striking,  and  Geoffrey  walked  over  to  the  polic- 
court  with  him. 

Standing-room  in  the  court  that  day  was  difficult  to 
get.  In  the  morning  well-worn  habitues  of  that  interest- 
ing place  easily  sold  the  width  of  their  bodies  on  the 
floor  for  fifty  cents. 

Maurice  Rankin  had  rushed  off  to  see  Jack  in  the 
morning.  He  knew  nothing  about  the  evidence,  but  he 
felt  that  Jack  was  innocent.  He  found  his  friend  appar- 
ently in  a  sort  of  stupor,  and  was  hardly  recognized  by 
him. 

"  You  must  have  the  best  lawyer  I  can  get  to  defend 
you.  Jack,"  he  said. 

No  answer. 

"  Don't  you  intend  to  make  any  defense  or  have  any 
assistance?  I  can  get  you  a  splendid  man  in  two  min- 
utes." 

Jack  shook  his  head  slowly,  and  said,  with  an  evident 
e/Tort : 

"No.     I  don't  care." 

Rankin  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  him  ;  but,  final- 
ly, he  said  : 

"  Well,  if  you  won't  have  any  person  better,  I  will  sit 
there,  and  if  I  see  my  way  to  anything  I'll  perhaps  say  a 
word.  You  do  not  object  to  my  doing  this,  do  you  ? " 
Jack's  answer,  or  rather  the  motion  of  his  head,  might 
have  meant  anything,  but  Rankin  took  it  to  mean  assent. 

At  half-past  nine,  Jack  was  led  from  the  cell  outside  to 
the  court-room  by  two  policemen  who  seemed  partly  to 
support  him. 

A  thrill  ran  through  his  old  friends  when  they  saw  him. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


335 


His  face  was  ghastly,  and  his  jaw  had  dropped  in  an  ener- 
vated way  that  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  man  who  had 
been  fairly  cornered  and  had  "  thrown  up  the  sponge  "  in 
despair.  He  had  not  been  brushed  or  combed  for  two 
nights  and  a  day.  He  still  wore  his  old,  dirty  sailing 
clothes.  The  sailor's  sheath-knife  attached  to  his  leather 
belt  had  been  removed  by  the  police.  His  partial  stupor 
was  construed  to  be  dogged  sullenness,  and  it  assisted  in 
giving  every  one  a  thoroughly  bad  impression  as  to  his  in- 
nocence. 

After  he  was  placed  in  the  dock  he  sat  down  and  ab- 
sently picked  at  some  blisters  on  his  hands,  until  the  magis- 
trate spoke  to  him,  and  then  the  policemen  ordered  him 
to  stand  up.  When  he  stood  thus,  partly  raised  above  the 
spectators,  his  eyes  were  lusterless  and  stolid  and  he  looked 
vacantly  in  the  direction  of  the  magistrate. 

"  John  Cresswell,  it  is  charged  against  you  that  you 
did,  on  the  25th  day  of  August  last,  at  the  city  of  Toronto, 
in  the  county  of  York,  feloniously  steal,  take,  and  carry 
away  fifty  thousand  dollars,  the  property  of  the  Victoria 
Bank  of  Canada,"  etc. 

Rankin  saw  that  Jack  did  not  comprehend  what  was 
going  on.  He  got  up,  and  was  going  to  say  something 
when  the  magistrate  continued  : 

"  Do  you  wish  that  the  charge  against  you  shall  be  tried 
by  me  or  with  a  jury  at  the  next  assizes,  or  by  some  other 
court  of  competent  jurisdiction  ? " 

No  answer. 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Jack  keenly.  It  struck  him 
that  the  prisoner  had  been  imbibing  and  was  not  yet  sober, 
and  so  he  spoke  louder,  and  in  a  more  explanatory  and 
informal  tone. 

"  You  may  be  tried,  if  you  like,  on  some  other  day,  be- 
fore the  county  judge  without  a  jury,  or  you  may  wait  till 
the  coming  assizes  and  be  tried  with  a  jury,  or,  if  you  con- 


33<5 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


sent  to  it,  you  may  be  tried  here,  now,  before  me.  Which 
do  you  wish  to  do  ?  " 

Still  no  answer. 

Rankin  considered.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  evidence, 
and  thought  it  impossible  for  Jack  to  be  guilty.  He  did 
not  wish  to  relinquish  any  chances  his  friend  might  have 
with  a  jury,  and  he  felt  that  Jack  himself  ought  to  answer 
if  he  could.  He  went  to  him  and  said  simply,  tor  it  was 
80  difficult  to  make  him  understand  : 

"  Do  you  want  to  be  tried  now  or  afterward  ?  " 

Jack  nodded  his  head,  while  he  seemed  to  be  trying 
to  collect  himself. 

"  You  mean  to  be  tried  now  ?  " 

Jack  looked  a  little  brighter  here,  and  said  weakly  : 

**  Certainly— why  not  ? " 

Detective  Dearborn  had  not  been  idle  since  his  return  ; 
and  all  the  witnesses  that  the  prosecution  required  were 
present. 

His  first  witness  was  Geoffrey  Hampstead.  His  evi- 
dence was  looked  upon  by  the  spectators  as  uninteresting, 
and  merely  for  the  sake  of  form.  Everybody  knew  what 
he  had  to  say.  He  merely  explained  how  the  packet  of 
fifty  bills  belonging  to  the  Victoria  Bank  had  been  put  in 
a  certain  place  on  the  desk  in  his  box  at  the  bank,  and 
that,  he  said,  was  all  he  knew  about  it. 

At  this  point,  Jack  leaned  over  the  bar  and  said;  with 
a  stupid  pleasure  in  his  face  : 

"  Morry,  there's  old  Geoffrey.  I  can  see  him.  What's 
he  talking  about  ?  Say,  if  you  get  a  chance,  tell  him  I 
am  awfully  glad  to  see  him  again." 

Rankin  now  became  convinced  that  there  was  some- 
thing the  matter  with  Jack's  head,  and  he  resolved  to 
speak  to  the  court  to  obtain  a  postponement  of  the  case 
when  the  present  witness  had  given  his  evidence. 

It  was  also  drawn  from  Geoffrey,  by  the  county  at- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


337 


tomey,  that  the  prisoner  alone  had  had  access  to  the  place 
where  the  money  lay,  that  it  could  not  have  been  reached 
from  the  public  hallway,  and  that  the  prisoner  had  gone 
out  very  soon  after  he  had  spoken  to  the  witness — when 
the  money  lay  within  his  reach. 

The  crown  prosecutor  said  he  would  ask  the  witness 
nothing  more  at  present,  but  would  require  him  again. 

Rankin  then  represented  to  the  police  magistrate  that 
his  client  was  too  ill  to  give  him  any  instructions  in  the 
matter.  The  defendant  was  a  personal  friend  of  his,  and 
although  willing  to  act  for  him,  he  was,  as  yet,  completely 
in  the  dark  as  to  any  of  the  facts,  and  in  view  of  this  he 
deemed  it  only  proper  to  request  that  the  whole  matter 
should  be  postponed  until  he  should  be  properly  able  to 
judge  for  himself. 

The  magistrate  then  asked,  with  something  of  a  twin- 
kle in  his  eye. 

"  What  do  you  think  is  the  matter  with  your  client, 
Mr.  Rankin  ?  " 

*'  It  is  hard  for  me,  not  being  a  doctor,  to  say,"  an- 
swered Rankin,  looking  back  thoughtfully  toward  Jack. 
"  I  think,  however,  that  he  is  suffering  from  some  affection 
of  the  brain." 

A  horse-laugh  was  heard  from  some  one  among  the 
"  unwashed,"  and  the  police  strained  their  heads  to  see 
who  made  the  noise.  The  old  plea  of  insanity  seemed  to 
be  coming  up  once  again,  and  one  man  in  the  crowd 
was  certainly  amused. 

The  magistrate  said  :  "I  do  not  think  there  is  any 
reason  why  I  should  not  go  on  heeding  the  evidence,  now. 
I  will  note  your  objection,  Mr.  Rankin,  and  I  perceive 
that  you  may  be  in  a  rather  awkward  position,  perhaps,  if 
you  are  in  total  ignorance  of  the  facts." 

Rankin  was  in  a  quandary.  If  he  sat  down  and  de- 
clined to  cross-examine  the  witnesses  or  act  for  the  de- 
aa 


53« 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


fendant  in  any  way,  Jack  might  be  convicted,  and  all 
chances  for  technical  loopholes  of  escape  might  be  lost 
forever.  There  might,  however,  in  this  case,  if  the  trial 
were  forced  on,  be  a  ground  for  some  after  proceedings 
on  the  claim  that  he  did  not  get  fair  play.  On  the  other 
hand,  cross-examination  might  possibly  break  up  the 
prosecution,  if  the  evidence  was  weak  or  unsatisfactory. 
He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  would  go  on  and  exam- 
ine the  witness  and  try  to  have  it  understood  that  he  did 
so  under  protest. 

After  partly  explaining  to  the  magistrate  what  he 
wished  to  do,  he  asked  Geoffrey  a  few  questions — not  see- 
ing his  way  at  all  clearly,  but  just  for  the  general  purpose 
of  fishing  until  he  elicited  something  that  he  might  use. 

"  You  say  that  after  the  defendant  spoke  to  you  in  the 
bank  you  heard  him  go  out  through  the  side  door.  Where 
does  that  side  door  lead  ?  " 

**  It  leads  into  an  empty  hall,  and  then  you  go  out  of 
an  outer  side  door  into  the  street." 

"  Is  not  this  outer  side  door  sometimes  left  open  in  hot 
weather  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  was  open  all  that  day." 
"  How  are  the  partitions  between  the  stalls  or  boxes  of 
the  different  clerks  in  the  Victoria  Bank  constructed  ?  " 

**  They  are  made  rather  high  (about  five  feet  six  high) 
and  they  are  built  of  wood — black  walnut,  I  think." 

"  Then,  if  the  door  of  your  box  was  closed  you  could 
not  see  who  came  in  or  out  of  Mr.  Cresswell's  stall  ?  " 

"  Only  through  the  wicket  between  our  boxes." 

"  How  long  after  Mr.  Cresswell  went  out  did  you  no- 
tice that  the  money  was  gone  ? " 

"I  can't  quite  remember.  I  was  going  on  with  my 
work  with  my  back  to  the  money.  It  might  have  been 
from  an  hour  to  an  hour  and  a  half.  I  went  out  to  the 
side  door  myself  for  an  instant,  to  see  what  the  weather 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


339 


was  going  to  be  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  some  time  after 
I  came  back  that  I  found  that  the  money  was  gone." 

**  Then,  as  far  as  you  are  able  to  tell,  somebody  might 
have  come  into  Mr.  Cresswell's  stall  after  he  went  out, 
and  taken  the  money  without  your  knowing  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  There  was  perhaps  an  hour  and  a  half 
in  which  this  could  have  been  done." 

"  This  package  of  money,  as  it  lay,  could  have  been 
seen  from  the  public  hall-way  of  the  bank  through  your 
front  wicket,  could  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  it  was  perfectly  possible  for  a  person,  after  seeing 
the  money  in  this  way,  to  go  around  and  come  in  the  side 
door,  enter  Mr.  Cresswell's  box  and  take  the  money  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  of  as  daring  robberies  as  that." 

"  Or  it  would  have  been  easy  for  any  of  the  other  bank 
officials  to  have  taken  the  money  ? " 

"  If  they  had  wished  to  do  so — yes." 

"  And  it  would  have  been  possible  for  you,  when  you 
went  to  the  side  door,  to  have  handed  the  money  to  some 
one  there  ready  to  receive  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Geoffrey,  laughing ;  "  I  might  have 
had  a  confederate  outside.  I  could  have  given  a  confed- 
erate about  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  that  morning,  I 
think." 

*'  Thank  you,"  said  Rankin  to  Geoffrey,  as  he  sat 
down. 

Geoffrey  saw  what  Rankin  wanted,  and  he  assisted 
him  as  far  as  he  could  to  open  up  any  other  possibilities 
to  account  for  the  disappearance  of  the  money. 

The  cabman  who  removed  Jack's  valises  early  in  the 
morning  was  then  called.  He  identified  Jack  as  the  person 
who  had  engaged  him.  Had  been  often  engaged  before 
by  Mr.  Cresswell.  He  also  identified  Jack's  valises,  which 
were  produced. 


j,    !• 


340 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


m 


Rankin  did  not  cross-examine  this  man.  His  evidence 
was  brought  in  to  show  that  Jack's  absconding  was  a 
carefully  planned  one — partly  put  into  action  before  the 
stealing  of  the  money — and  not  the  result  of  any  hasty 
impulse. 

The  caretaker  of  the  yacht-club  house  was  also  called, 
for  the  same  object.  He  told  what  he  knew,  and  was  re- 
strained with  difficulty  from  continually  saying  that  he  did 
not  see  anything  suspicious  about  what  he  saw.  The  care- 
taker was  evidently  partial  to  the  prisoner. 

Detective  Dearborn  then  took  the  stand,  and  as  he 
proceeded  in  his  story  the  interest  grew  intense.  But 
when  he  mentioned  meeting  a  young  lady  on  the  steam- 
boat, and  getting  into  a  conversation  with  her,  Rankin 
arose  and  said  he  had  no  doubt  there  were  few  ladies  who 
could  resist  his  friend  Detective  Dearborn,  but  that  he  did 
not  see  what  she  had  to  do  with  the  case. 

Then  the  county  attorney  jumped  to  his  feet  and  con- 
tended that  this  evidence  was  admissible  to  show  that 
this  woman  was  going  to  the  same  place  as  the  prisoner 
and  had  conspired  with  the  prisoner  to  rob  the  bank. 

Rankin  replied  that  there  was  no  charge  against  the 
prisoner  for  conspiracy,  that  the  woman  was  not  men- 
tioned in  the  charge,  and  unless  it  were  shown  that  she 
was  in  some  way  connected  with  the  prisoner  in  the  lar- 
ceny evidence  as  to  her  conversations  could  not  be  re- 
ceived if  not  spoken  in  the  prisoner's  presence. 

Rankin  had  no  idea  who  this  woman  was  or  what  she 
had  said.  He  only  choked  off  everything  he  could  on 
general  principles. 

The  magistrate  refused  to  receive  as  evidence  the  con- 
versation between  her  and  the  detective.  So  Rankin 
made  his  point,  not  knowing  how  valuable  it  was  to  his 
client. 

Detective  Dearborn  was  much  chagrined  at  this.     He 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


341 


thought  that  his  story,  a.s  an  interesting  narrative  of  detect- 
ive life,  was  quite  spoiled  by  the  omission,"  and  he  blurted 
out  as  a  sort  of  "  aside  "  to  the  spectators  : 

"  Well,  any  way,  she  said  she  was  Cresswell's  wife." 
This  remark  created  a  sensation  in  court,  as  he  antici- 
pated. But  the  magistrate  rebuked  him  very  sharply  for 
it,  saying :  "  I  would  have  you  remember  that  the  evi- 
dence of  very  zealous  police  officers  is  always  sufficiently 
open  to  suspicion.  Showing  more  zeal  than  the  law  allows 
to  obtain  a  conviction  does  not  improve  your  condition 
as  a  witness." 

Although  merited,  this  was  a  sore  snub  for  the  able  de- 
tective, and  it  seemed  quite  to  take  the  heart  out  of  him  ; 
but  he  afterward  recovered  himself  as  he  fell  to  describ- 
ing what  had  occurred  in  the  collision  and  how  he  had 
got  on  board  the  North  Star — the  sole  survivor  from  the 
Eleusinian.  In  speaking  of  the  arrest  he  did  not  say  that 
he  had  prevented  Jack  from  saving  the  life  dearest  on 
earth  to  him.  He  gave  the  truth  a  very  unpleasant  turn 
against  the  prisoner  by  saying  that  Jack  struggled  violent- 
ly to  escape  from  the  arrest  and  tried  to  throw  himself 
overboard.  This,  of  course,  gave  all  the  impression  that 
he  was  ready  to  seek  death  rather  than  be  captured.  It 
gave  a  desperate  aspect  to  his  conduct,  and  accorded  well 
with  his  sullen  appearance  in  the  court-room.  Dearborn 
suppressed  the  fact  that  Jack  had  been  delirious  and  rav* 
ing  for  twelve  hours  afterward,  as  this  might  explain  his 
present  condition  and  cause  delay.  He  had  lost  no  op- 
portunity of  circulating  the  suggestion  that  he  was  sham- 
ming insanity. 

After  he  had  briefly  described  his  return  to  Toronto 
with  his  prisoner,  the  crown  attorney  asked  him  : 
"  Did  you  find  any  articles  upon  his  person  ?  " 
**  Yes  ;  I  took  this  knife  away  from  him." 
"  Ah,  indeed !  "  said  the  crown  attorney,  taking  the 


342 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


knife  and  examining  it.  "Quite  a  murderous  -  looking 
weapon." 

"  Which  will  be  found  strapped  to  the  back  of  every 
sailor  that  breathes,"  interrupted  Rankin  indignantly.  "I 
hope  my  learned  friend  won't  arrest  his  barber  for  using 
razors  in  his  daily  work."  ••  * 

**  And  what  else  did  you  find  upon  him  ?  "  asked  the 
attorney,  returning  to  the  case  for  want  of  good  retort. 

Detective  Dearborn  thought  a  sensation  agreeable  to 
himself  would  certainly  be  made  by  his  answer  : 

**  Well,"  he  said,  with  the  san^i^  froid  with  which  de- 
tectives delight  to  make  their  best  points,  "  I  found  on 
him  two  of  the  stolen  one-thousand-dollar  bills — " 

"  Now,  now,  now  !"  cried  Rankin,  jumping  to  his  feet 
in  an  instant.  **  You  can  not  possibly  know  that  of  your 
own  knowledge.  You  are  getting  too  zealous  again,  Mr. 
Dearborn." 

"  Don't  alarm  yourself,  my  acute  friend,"  said  the 
crown  attorney,  conscious  that  all  the  evidence  he  required 
was  coming  on  afterward.  "  We  will  prove  the  identity  of 
the  recovered  bills  to  your  most  complete  satisfaction." 
Then,  turning  to  the  witness,  he  said  :  **Go  on." 

Dearborn,  who  had  made  the  little  stir  he  expected 
went  on  to  explain  what  the  other  moneys  were  that  he 
had  found  on  Jack,  and  described  how  he  found  the  bills 
pinned  securely  inside  a  watch-pocket  of  a  waistcoat  that 
he  wore  underneath  his  outer  shirt. 

Rankin  asked  Dearborn  only  one  question.  There 
did  not  seem  to  be  any  use  in  resisting  the  matter  except 
on  the  one  point  which  remained  to  be  proved. 

"  You  do  not  pretend  to  identify  these  bills  yourself  ? " 

"No,  sir,  I  don't.  But  we'll  fix  that  all  right  for 
you,"  he  said,  triumphantly,  as  he  descended  from  the 
box. 

"The  clerk  in  the  Montreal  Telegraph  Company's 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


343 


office  who  compared  the  numbers  of  the  bills  with  the  list 
of  numbers  sent  from  New  York,  then  identified  the  two 
recovered  bills  beyond  any  doubt.  He  also  swore  that 
he  personally  deposited  the  package  of  bills  with  the  re- 
ceiving teller  of  the  Victoria  Bank. 

The  receiving  teller  swore  to  having  received  such  a 
package  and  having  handed  it  to  Mr.  Hampstead  to  be 
used  in  his  department. 

Geoffrey  Hampstead  was  recalled,  and  acknowledged 
receiving  such  a  package  from  the  other  clerk.  But  what 
surprised  everybody  was  that  he  took  up  the  recovered 
bills  and  swore  positively  that  the  stolen  bills  were  of  a 
light-brown  color,  and  not  dark-green,  like  the  ones  found 
on  the  prisoner. 

Geoffrey  had  seen  that  the  whole  case  depended  on 
the  identification  of  these  bills.  If  he  could  break  the 
evidence  of  the  other  witnesses  sufficiently  on  this  point, 
there  might,  he  thought,  be  a  chance  of  having  Jack  lib- 
erated. 

A  peculiar  thing  happened  here,  which  startled  the 
dense  mass  of  people  looking  on. 

The  prisoner  arose  to  his  feet,  and,  taking  hold  of  the 
railing  to  steady  himself,  said  in  a  rolling,  hollow  voice, 
while  Geoffrey  was  swearing  that  the  stolen  bills  were  of  a 
light-brown  color  : 

"  Geoffrey,  old  man,  don't  tell  any  lies  on  my  ac- 
count. The  bills  were  all  dark-green."  Then  he  sat 
down  again  wearily. 

If  there  was  a  man  in  the  room  who  until  now  had 
still  hoped  that  Jack  was  innocent,  his  last  clinging  hope 
was  dissipated  by  this  speech. 

A  deep  silence  prevailed  for  an  instant,  as  the  convic- 
tion of  his  guilt  sank  into  every  heart. 

Some  said  it  was  just  like  Geoffrey  to  go  up  and  tiy  to 
swear  his  friend  off.    They  thought  it  was  like  him,  inas- 


344 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


,  .  :U3 


H  J.-   ■' 


m  ^ 


much  as  it  was  a  daring  stroke  which  was  aimed  at  the  root 
of  the  whole  prosecution.  Probably  he  lost  few  friends 
among  those  who  thought  he  had  perjured  himself  for 
this  object.  Those  who  did  not  think  this,  supposed  he 
was  mistaken  in  his  recollection  as  to  the  color  of  the 
bills.  A  small  special  edition  of  a  vulgar  newspaper,  is- 
sued an  hour  afterward,  said  : 

**  In  this  case  of  Regina  vs.  Cresswell,  if  Hampstead 
had  been  able  to  shake  the  identification  of  these  bills  no 
doubt  Regina  would  have  'got  left.*" 

When  Jack  had  returned  to  consciousness,  at  Port 
Dalhousie,  it  was  only  partially.  He  looked  at  the  de- 
tective dreamily  when  informed  that  he  had  to  go  to  To- 
ronto. He  felt  desperately  ill  and  weak,  and  thought  of 
one  thing  only — Nina's  death.  Even  that  he  only  realized 
faintly.  Mentally  and  bodily  he  was  like  a  water-logged 
wreck  that  could  be  towed  about  from  place  to  place  but 
was  capable  in  itself  of  doing  little  more  than  barely 
floating.  When  Rankin  had  spoken  to  him,  before  the 
trial,  about  getting  a  lawyer,  he  was  merely  conscious  of 
a  slight  annoyance  that  disturbed  the  one  weak  current 
of  his  thought.  When  the  magistrate  had  addressed  him 
in  the  court-room,  the  change  from  the  dark  cell  to  the 
light  room  and  the  crowd  of  faces  had  nearly  banished 
again  the  few  rays  of  intelligence  which  he  possessed. 
He  did  not  know  what  the  magistrate  was  saying.  Vaguely 
conscious  that  there  was  some  charge  against  him,  he  was 
paralyzed  by  a  deathlike  weakness  which  prevented  his 
caring  in  the  slightest  degree  what  happened.  When  Ran- 
kin spoke  incisively  to  him,  the  voice  was  familiar,  and  he 
was  able  to  make  an  answer,  and  in  the  course  of  the  trial 
gleams  of  intelligence  came  to  him.  The  vibrations  of 
Geoffrey's  well-known  voice  aroused  him  with  a  half-thrill 
of  pleasure,  and  during  the  re-examination  he  had  partly 
comprehended  that  there  was  some  charge  against   him 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


345 


about  these  bills,  and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  as 
Geoffrey  must  have  known  the  true  color  of  the  bills,  he 
was  only  telling  an  untruth  for  the  purpose  of  getting  him 
off.  This  was  as  far  as  his  intelligence  climbed,  and  when 
he  sat  down  again  the  exertion  proved  too  much  for  him, 
and  his  mind  wandered. 

Of  course,  after  this  terribly  damaging  remark,  there 
was  nothing  left  for  Rankin  to  cling  to.  Clearly,  Jack 
knew  all  about  the  bills,  and  had  given  up  all  hope  of 
acquittal.  The  two  other  clerks  were  called  to  contradict 
Geoffrey  as  to  the  color  of  the  bills,  and  with  that  the  case 
for  the  prosecution  closed. 

Rankin  said  he  was  as  yet  unprepared  with  any  evi- 
dence for  the  defense.  Evidence  of  previous  good  charac- 
ter could  certainly  be  obtained  in  any  quantity  from  any 
person  who  had  ever  known  the  prisoner,  and,  in  any 
case,  he  should  be  allowed  time  to  prod''cc  this  evidence. 
He  easily  showed  a  number  of  reasons  why  a  postpone- 
ment for  a  week  should  be  granted. 

The  magistrate  shook  his  head,  and  then  told  John 
Cresswell  to  stand  up. 

Jack  was  partly  hoisted  up  by  a  policeman.  He  stood 
holding  on  to  the  bar  in  front  of  him  with  his  head  down, 
perhaps  the  most  guilty  looking  individual  that  had  been 
in  that  dock  for  a  month. 

"  John  Cresswell,  the  evidence  against  you  in  this  case 
leaves  no  shadow  of  doubt  in  my  mind  that  you  are  guilty 
of  the  offense  charged.  Your  counsel  has  requested  a 
delay  in  order  that  your  defense  may  be  more  thoroughly 
gone  into.  I  have  watched  your  demeanor  throughout 
the  trial,  and,  although  a  little  doubtful  at  first,  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  are  shamming  insanity. 
I  saw  you  on  several  occasions  look  perfectly  intelligent, 
and  your  remarks  show  that  you  fully  understand  the 
bearing  of  the  case.     I  will  therefore  refuse  to  postpone 


346 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


the  trial  further  than  three  o'clock  this  afternoon.  This 
will  give  your  counsel  an  opportunity  to  produce  evidence 
of  previous  good  character  or  any  other  evidence  that  he 
may  wish  to  bring  forward.  Forty-eight  thousand  dollars 
of  the  stolen  money  are  still  missing,  and,  so  far,  I  cer- 
tainly presume  that  you  know  where  that  large  sum  of 
money  is  secreted.  Unless  the  aspect  of  the  case  be 
changed  by  further  evidence  sentence  will  be  passed  on 
you  this  afternoon,  and  I  wish  to  tell  you  now  that  if,  in 
the  mean  time,  you  make  restitution  of  the  money,  such 
action  on  your  part  may  materially  affect  the  sentence  I 
shall  pass  upon  you." 

The  magistrate  was  going  on  to  say  :  "  I  will  adjourn 
the  court  now  until  three  o'clock,"  when  he  perceived  that 
Jack,  who  was  still  standing,  was  speaking  to  him  and 
looking,  it  him  vacantly.  What  Jack  said  while  his  head 
swayed  about  drunkenly  was  this: 

"  If  you'll  let  me  otf  this  watch  now  I'll  do  double  time 
to-morrow,  governor.  I  never  was  sea-sick  before,  but  I 
must  turn  in  for  a  while,  for  I  can't  stand  without  holding 
on  to  something." 

Nobody  knew  what  to  make  of  this  except  Detective 
Dearborn,  who  had  possessed  all  along  the  clew  to  his  dis- 
tressing condition.  But  what  did  the  detective  care  for 
his  condition  ?  John  Cresswell  was  black  with  guilt.  The 
fact  of  his  being  "cut  up"  because  a  woman  got  drowned 
did  not    h^r  U.    He  and  that  deuced  fine  woman 

were  business,  and  forty-eight  thousand 

had  ^^  m  of  the  lake  in  her  pocket.     The 

de' .  ,e  cou  j.  not  forgive  himself  for  not  allowing  Jack 
to  try  and  s  ve  the  girl.  The  girl  herself  was  no  object, 
but  it  would  have  fetched  t  ings  out  beautifully  as  a  cul- 
mination of  detective  work  bring  her  back  also — along 
with  the  money.  Forty-ei  .  and  two  would  make  fifty, 
and  if  the  bank  could  not  p    ord  to  give  away  one  in  con- 


GEOFFREY    HAMPSTEAD. 


347 


sideration  of  getting  back  the  forty-nine — Bah  !  he  knew 
his  mad  thirst  to  hold  his  prey  had  made  him  a  fool. 

Was  it  the  formation  of  his  jaw  ?  They  say  a  bull-dog 
is  not  the  best  fighter,  because  he  will  not  let  go  his  first 
grip  in  order  to  take  a  better  one. 

The  court-room  was  empty  in  five  minutes  after  the 
adjournment,  and  a  couple  of  the  "  Vies  "  followed  Jack 
down-stairs.  Rankin  went  down  also  and  was  going  to 
get  Jack  some  stimulant,  but  he  found  the  bank  fellows 
ahead  of  him.  One  of  them  had  got  a  pint  of  "  fizz," 
another  had  procured  from  the  neighboring  restaurant 
some  oysters  and  a  small  flask  of  brandy. 

These  young  men  were  beautiful  in  the  matter  of 
stand-up  collars,  their  linen  v/as  chaste  and  extensive, 
and  their  clothes  ornamental,  but  they  could  stick  to  a 
friend.  The  language  of  these  young  men,  who  showed 
such  a  laxity  in  moral  tone  as  to  attempt  to  refresh  an 
undoubted  criminal,  was  ordinarily  almost  too  correct,  but 
now  they  were  profane.  Every  one  of  them  had  been  fond 
of  Jack,  and  their  sympathy  was  greater  than  their  self- 
control.  For  once  they  forgot  to  be  respectable,  and  were 
cursing  to  keep  themselves  from  showing  too  much  feel- 
ing— a  phase  not  uncommon.       -' 

Rankin  saw  Jack  take  some  brandy  and  that  afterward 
he  was  able  to  peck  at  the  oysters.  Then  he  walked  off 
to  No.  175  Tremaine  Buildings  to  think  out  what  had  best 
be  done  and  to  have  a  solitary  piece  of  bread  and  butter, 
and  perhaps  a  cup  of  tea,  if  Mrs.  Priest's  stove  happened 
to  have  a  fire  in  it. 


348 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


B^'^^ff 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

So  Justice,  while  she  winks  at  crimes, 
Stumbles  on  innocence  sometimes. 


Hudibras. 


He  who  is  false  to  present  duty  breaks  a  thread  in  the  loom,  and  will 
find  the  flaw  when  he  may  have  forgotten  its  cause. — Henry  Ward 
Beecher. 

About  two  o'clock  on  this  day  of  the  trial,  when  Geof- 
frey and  all  the  rest  of  the  bank-clerks  were  hurrying 
through  their  work  in  order  to  get  out  to  attend  the  police 
court,  Mr.  Dearborn  came  in  unexpectedly,  and  talked  to 
Hampstead  for  a  while.  He  said  that  the  prisoner  Cress- 
well  was  very  ill,  perhaps  dying,  and  had  begged  him  to  go 
and  bring  Geoffrey  to  see  him — if  only  for  a  moment. 

"All  right,"  said  Hampstead,  "I'll  speak  to  the  m.-in- 
ager  about  going,  and  will  then  drop  over  with  you." 

He  did  so,  and  they  walked  to  the  police  station  to- 
gether. They  descended  into  the  basement,  and  Mr. 
Dearborn  unlocked  a  cell  which  was  very  dark  inside. 

"You'll  find  him  in  there,"  said  the  detective.  "I'll 
have  to  keep  the  door  locked,  of  course,  while  you  are 
with  him." 

Geoffrey  entered,  and  the  door  was  locked  on  the  out- 
side. He  looked  around  the  cell,  and  then  a  fear  struck 
him.  He  tuiTied  coolly  to  the  detective,  who  was  still 
outside  the  bars,  and  said :  "  You  have  brought  me  to  the 
wrong  cell.     Cresswell  is  not  in  this  one." 

"Well,  the  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Dearborn,  "a  warrant 
was  just  now  placed  in  my  hands  for  your  arrest,  and,  as 
they  say  you  are  particularly  good  both  at  running  and 
the  manly  art,  I  thought  a  little  stratagem  might  work  the 
thing  in  nice,  quiet  shape." 

"Just  so,"  said  Hampstead,  laughing.     "  Perhaps  you 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


349 


are  right.  I  don't  think  you  could  catch  ine  if  I  got 
started.     Who  issued  the  warrant,  and  what  is  it  about?'* 

"  Here  is  the  warrant.  You  are  entitled  to  see  it.  An 
information  was  laid,  and  that's  all  I  know  about  it. 
You'll  be  called  up  in  court  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  must 
leave  you  now — to  look  after  some  other  business." 

At  three  o'clock,  when  the  court-room  was  packed 
almost  to  suffocation,  the  magistrate  mounted  the  bei»ch, 
and  Cresswell  was  brought  up  and  remanded  until  the 
nexc  morning.  The  spectators  were  much  disappointed 
at  not  hearing  the  termination  of  the  matter,  but  their  in- 
terest revived  as  they  heard  the  magistrate  say,  "  Bring 
in  the  other  prisoner." 

A  dead  silence  followed,  broken  only  by  the  measured 
tread  of  men's  feet  in  the  corridor  outside.  The  double 
doors  opened,  and  there  appeared  Geoffrey  Hampstead 
handcuffed  and  accompanied  by  four  huge  policemen.  In 
ten  minutes,  any  person  in  the  court  could  easily  sell  his 
standing-room  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  stand,  or  upward. 

There  was  no  hang-dog  look  about  Geoffrey.  His  crest 
was  high.  It  was  surprising  to  see  how  dignified  a  man 
could  appear  in  handcuffs.  Suppressed  indignation  was 
so  vividly  stamped  upon  his  face  that  all  gained  the  idea 
that  the  gentleman  was  suffering  an  outrage.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  dock,  one  of  his  guards  laid  his  hand  on 
his  arm.  Hampstead  stopped  short  and  turned  to  the 
policeman  as  if  he  would  eat  him  : 

"  Take  your  hand  off  my  arm !  "  he  rasped  out.  The 
man  did  so  in  a  hurry,  and  the  spectators  were  impressed 
by  the  incident. 

A  charge  about  the  fifty  thousand  dollars  was  read  out 

to  Geoffrey,  similar  to  that  in  the  Cresswell  case,  That  he 

did,  etc. — on,  etc. — at,  etc. — feloniously,  etc. — and  all  the 

rest  of  it. 

Now  Hampstead  did  not  see  how,  when  he  was  appar- 


350 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


M 


ently  innocent,  and  another  man  practically  convicted, 
he  could  possibly  be  thought  guilty  also.  The  case  against 
Cresswell  had  been  so  complete  that  it  was  impossible  for 
any  one  to  doubt  his  guilt.  Hampstead  knew  also  that  if 
he  were  tried  once  now  ^nd  acquitted,  he  never  could  be 
tried  again  for  the  same  offense.  He  had  been  fond  of 
talking  to  Rankin  about  criminal  law,  and  on  some  points 
was  better  posted  than  most  men.  He  did  not  know 
whether  Jack  would  be  well  enough  to  give  evidence  to- 
day, if  at  al?,  and  if,  for  want  of  proof  or  otherwise,  the 
case  against  him  failed  now,  he  would  be  safe  forever. 
Jack  might  recover  soon,  and  then  the  case  would  be 
worse  if  he  told  all  he  knew.  He  did  not  engage  a  lawyer, 
as  this  might  seem  as  if  he  were  doubtful  and  needed 
assistance.  He  was,  he  thought,  quite  as  well  able  to  see 
loopholes  of  escape  as  a  lawyer  would  be,  so  long  as  they 
did  not  depend  on  technicalities.  Altogether  he  had  de- 
cided, after  his  arrest  and  after  careful  thought,  to  take 
his  trial  at  once. 

He  elected  to  be  tried  before  a  police  magistrate,  said 
he  was  ready  for  trial,  and  pleaded  "not  guilty." 

About  this  time  the  manager  of  the  Victoria  Bank,  who 
was  very  much  astonished  and  hurt  at  the  proceedings 
taken  against  Geoffrey,  leaned  over  and  asked  the  county 
attorney  if  he  had  much  evidence  against  Mr.  Hampstead. 
The  poor  manager  was  beginning  almost  to  doubt  his  own 
honesty.  Every  person  seemed  guilty  in  this  matter.  As 
for  Jack  and  Hampstead,  he  would  have  previously  been 
quite  ready  to  have  sworn  to  his  belief  in  their  honesty. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  replied  the  county  attorney,  "  I  don't 
know  anything  about  it.  Mr.  Rankin  came  flying  down 
in  a  cab,  saw  the  prisoner  Cresswell,  swore  out  a  warrant, 
had  Mr.  Hampstead  arrested,  sent  the  detectives  flying 
about  in  all  directions,  and  that's  all  I  know  about  it.  He 
is  running  the  entire  show  himself." 


"II  :r 


i 


GEOFfJlEY    HAMPSTEAD. 


351 


**  Indeed  !  "  said  the  manager.  **  I  shall  never  be  sur- 
prised at  anything  again,  after  to-day." 

Nobody  knew  but  Rankin  himself  what  was  coming 
on.  Several  detectives  had  had  special  work  allotted  to 
them,  but  this  was  all  they  knew,  and  the  small  lawyer 
sat  with  apparent  composure  until  it  was  time  to  call  his 
first  witness. 

Mr.  St.  George  Le  Mesurier  Hector  Northcote  was  the 
first  witness  called,  and  his  fashionable  outfit  created  some 
amusement  among  the  "  unwashed."  Rankin,  with  a  cer- 
tain malignity,  made  him  give  his  name  in  full,  which,  to- 
gether with  his  affected  utterance,  interested  those  who 
were  capable  of  smiling. 

After  some  formal  questions,  Rankin  unrolled  a  parcel, 
shook  out  a  waistcoat  with  a  large  pattern  on  it,  and  hand- 
ed it  to  the  witness. 

'*  Did  you  ever  see  that  waistcoat  before  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  It  belongs  to  Mr.  Hampstead.  At  least  it 
used  to  belong  to  him." 

*'  When  did  you  see  it  last  ?  " 

"  Up  in  his  rooms  a  few  evenings  ago." 

"  That  was  the  night  of  the  day  the  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars was  stolen  from  the  bank  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  it  then  ?  " 

"  I  took  it  out  of  his  bedroom  closet  to  give  to  a  poor 
boy." 

"  Why  did  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  kindness  to  Mr.  Hampstead  to  take 
that  very  dreadful  waistcoat  away  from  him.  I  took  this 
and  a  number  of  other  garments  to  give  to  the  boy." 

"  You  were  quite  generous  that  night !  Did  Mr.  Hamp- 
stead object  ?  " 

"  Object  ?  Oh,  no  !  I  should  have  said  that  he  took 
them  from  me  and  gave  them  to  the  boy  himself." 


10 


lirf  '       .   *  1^  I' 


If..    ,      ml .  fj 


352 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


'i 


"  Now,  why  were  you  so  generous  with  Mr.  Hamp- 
stead's  clothes,  and  why  should  he  consent  to  give  them  to 
the  boy  ?  " 

This  was  getting  painful  for  Sappy.  His  manager  was 
standing,  as  he  said,  plumb  in  front  of  him. 

"Well,  if  I  must  tell  unpleasant  things,"  said  Sappy, 
**  the  boy  was  sent  out  that  evening  to  get  us  a  little  wine, 
and  I  thought  giving  him  that  waistcoat  would  be  a  satis- 
faction to  all  parties." 

"You  were  perfectly  right.  You  have  given  a  great 
deal  of  satisfaction  to  a  great  many  people.  So  Mr. 
Hampstead  was  entertaining  his  friends  that  night?" 

"  Yes.  We  dined  with  him  at  the  club  that  evening, 
and  adjourned  afterward  to  his  rooms  to  have  a  little 


music 


» 


Ah  !  Just  so.  Seeing  how  pleasantly  things  had  been 
going  in  the  bank  that  day,  and  that  his  particular  friend 
Cresswell  had  decamped  with  fifty  thousand  dollars,  Mr. 
Hampstead  was  celebrating  the  occasion.  Now,  I  suppose 
that,  taking  in  the  cost  of  the  dinners  and  the  wine — or 
rather,  excuse  me — the  music,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  you 
got  the  impression  that  Mr.  Hampstead  had  a  good  deal 
of  money  that  night  ?  " 

"  That's  none  of  your  business,"  said  Sappy,  firing  up. 
'*  Mr.  Hampstead  spends  his  money  like  a  gentleman.  I 
suppose  he  did  spend  a  good  deal  that  night,  and  generally 
does." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Rankin. 

He  then  went  on  to  ask  questions  about  Hampstead's 
salary  and  his  probable  expenses,  but  perhaps  this  was  to 
kill  time,  for  he  kept  looking  toward  the  door,  as  if  he  ex- 
pected somebody  to  come  in.  Finally  he  let  poor  Sappy 
depart  in  peace,  after  making  him  show  beyond  any  doubt 
that  Geoffrey  wore  this  waistcoat  at  the  time  of  the  theft 
at  the  bank — that  the  garment  was  old  fashioned,  and  that 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


353 


it  had  seemed  peculiar  that  Hampstead,  a  man  of  some 
fashion,  should  be  wearing  it. 

Patsey  Priest  was  now  called,  aiid  he  slunk  in  from  an 
adjoining  room,  in  company  with  a  policem.an.  He  had  a 
fixed  impression  in  his  mind  that  Geoffrey  was  his  prose- 
cutor, and  that  he  was  going  to  be  charged  with  stealing 
liquors,  cigars,  tobacco,  and  clothes.  He  was  prepared  to 
prove  his  innocence  of  all  these  crimes,  but  he  trembled 
visibly.  His  mother  had  put  his  oldest  clothes  upon  him, 
as  poverty,  she  thought,  might  prove  a  good  plea  before 
the  day  v/as  out.  The  difference  between  his  garments 
and  those  of  the  previous  witness  was  striking.  His  skin, 
as  seen  through  the  holes  in  his  apparel,  suggested  how,  by 
mere  laches^  real  estate  could  become  personalty. 

"  Where  were  you  on  Wednesday  night  last,  about  one 
or  two  o'clock  in  the  evening  ?  " 

"  I  wus  in  Mr.  'Ampstead's  rooms  part  of  the  time." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  waistcoat  before  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,  and  he  gev  it  to  me,  so  help  me  on  four- 
teen Bibles,  as  I  kin  prove  by  five  or  six  gents  right  in 
front  of  me  over  there,  and  its  altogether  wrong  ye  are 
fur  to  '.ry  and  fix  it  on  to  a  poor  boy  as  has  to  get  his 
livin*  honest  and  support  his  mother,  and  her  a  widder — " 

"  Stop,  stop  !  "  called  Rankin.  "  Did  you  get  this  other 
waistcoat  at  the  same  time  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  did,  an'  a  lot  more  besides,  an'  I  tuk  them  all 
up  and  gev  them  to  me  mother  just  the  same  as  I  gives 
her  all  me  wages  and  the  hull  of  the  clothes  an*  more  be- 
sides give  me  fur  goin*  round  to  the  Rah-seen  House  fur 
to  buy  the  drinks — " 

"  That  will  do,  that  will  do,"  interrupted  Rankin. 
"  You  can  go." 

"  Faith,  I  knew  ye'd  hev  to  discharge  me,  fur  I'm  as 
innercent  as  y'are  yerself." 

Mrs.  Priest  was  called. 
23 


354 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


She  came  in  with  more  assurance  now,  as  she  had  be- 
come convinced,  from  seeing  Hampstead  in  the  dock  and 
guarded  by  the  police,  that  the  matter  in  question  did  not 
refer  to  her  consumption  of  coal,  or  her  legal  right  to 
perquisites. 

"  Mrs.  Priest,  did  you  ever  see  that  waistcoat  before  ?  " 
said  Rankin. 

"  See  it  before !  Didn't  you  take  it  out  of  me  own 
hands  not  two  hours  ago  ?    What  are  ye  after,  man  ? " 

Rankin  explained  that  the  magistrate  wished  to  know 
all  about  it. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  his  lordship  the  hull  story  :  Ye  see,  yer 
*anor,  the  boy  gets  the  clothes  from  Mr.  Geoffrey  and  brings 
them  up  to  me  last  Wednesday  night  begone  and  says 
they  was  give  to  him,  an'  the  next  day  I  wus  lookin' 
through  them,  and  I  thought  I'd  sell  this  weskit  becas  the 
patthern  is  a  thrifle  large  for  a  child,  an'  I  puts  me  'and 
into  these  'ere  pockets  on  the  inside  an'  I  pulls  out  a 
paper — " 

"  Stop !     Is  this  the  paper  you  found  ? " 

**  Yes,  that's  it;  'an  I  thought  it  might  be  of  some  use, 
as  it  hed  figures  on  it  and  writin'.  An'  I  says  to  Mr. 
Renkin,  when  he  come  into  my  room  to-day  fur  to  get  a 
cup—" 

"  Never  mind  what  I  came  in  for,"  said  Rankin,  color- 
ing. 

"  An'  I  says  to  Mr.  Rankin,  sez  I,  *  Is  this  paper  any 
use,  do  you  think,  to  Mr.  'Ampstead.'  An'  he  looks  at  it 
awful  hard  and  sez,  '  Where  did  yer  get  it  ?  *  An'  then  I 
ups  and  told  him  (for  I  wus  quite  innercent,  and  so  wus 
the  boy)  that  I  had  got  it  out  of  the  weskit — out  of  these 
*ere  inside  pockets.  An*  then  I  shows  him  that  other 
weskit  an*  how  the  lining  of  one  weskit  had  been  cut  out 
and  sewn  onter  the  other — as  anybody  can  see  as  com- 
pares the  two — an'  I  never  saw  any  weskit  with  four  long 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


355 


pockets  on  the  inside  before,  an*  I  wondered  what  they 
wus  fur. 

"  An*  I  hedn*t  got  the  words  out  of  me  mouth  before 
Mr.  Renkin  turned  as  white  as  the  drippin*  snow  and 
says,  *  My  God  !  *  an'  he  grabs  the  two  weskits  widout  me 
leave  or  license,  an'  also  the  paper,  an*  I  thought  he'd 
break  his  neck  down  the  stairs  in  the  dark.  An*  that's 
all  I  know  about  it  until  the  cops  brought  me  and  the 
child  here  in  the  hack,  after  we  put  on  our  best  clothes  fur 
to  be  decent  to  answer  to  the  charge  before  yer  lordship ; 
an'  if  that's  all  yer  lordship  wants  ter  know,  I'd  like  to  axe 
yer  lordship  if  there'll  be  anythin*  comin*  to  me  fur  comin' 
down  here  widout  resistin'  the  cops  ? " 

As  Rankin  finished  with  Mrs.  Priest,  the  police  magis- 
trate reminded  the  prisoner  that  he  had  the  right  to  cross- 
examine  the  witness. 

Hampstead  smiled,  and  said  he  had  no  doubt  all  she 
said  was  true. 

Rankin  then  read  the  marks  on  the  piece  of  paper.  It 
was  a  longish  slip  of  paper,  about  three  inches  wide,  and 
had  been  cut  off  from  a  large  sheet  of  office  letter-paper. 
There  had  been  printing  at  the  top  of  this  sheet  when  it 
was  entire.  On  the  piece  cut  off  still  remained  the  print- 
ed words  "Western  Union."  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
paper,  which  seemed  to  have  been  used  as  a  wrapper  and 
fastened  with  a  pin,  were  the  figures,  in  blue  pencil, 
"$50,000,*'  and,  below,  a  direction  or  memorandum  : 
"For  Mont.  Teleg.  Co'y.  Toronto."  These  words  had 
had  a  pen  passed  through  them. 

The  excitement  caused  by  this  evidence  was  in- 
creased when  Hampstead  arose  and  requested  to  be 
allowed  to  withdraw  his  consent  to  be  tried  before  the 
magistrate. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  that  my  friend  Mr.  Rankin 
has  been  led  astray  by  some  facts  which  can  be  thoroughly 


35^ 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


illy 


nl& 


It*  'S  '  '  I,  Si 


well  explained.  But  I  must  have  time  and  opportunity  to 
get  such  evidence  as  I  require." 

The  magistrate  rather  sternly  replied  that  he  had  con- 
sented to  his  trial  to-day,  and  said  he  was  ready  for  trial, 
and  that  the  request  for  a  change  would  be  refused.  The 
trial  must  go  on. 

The  Montreal  Telegraph  clerk  was  then  called,  and 
identified  the  wrapper  as  the  one  that  had  been  around 
the  stolen  fifty  thousand  dollars.  He  had  run  his  pen 
through  the  written  words  before,  depositing  the  money  in 
the  Victoria  Bank.  He  again  identified  by  their  numbers 
the  two  one-thousand  dollar  bills  found  on  Jack,  and  he 
was  then  told  to  stand  down  until  again  required. 

The  receiving  teller  of  the  bank  could  not  swear  pos- 
itively to  the  wrapper.  He  remembered  that  there  had 
been  a  paper  around  the  bills  with  blue  writing  on  it,  which 
he  thought  he  had  not  removed  when  counting  the  bills. 

Rankin  then  requested  the  police  to  bring  in  John 
Cressv,-cll. 

Want  of  proper  nourishment  had  had  much  to  do  with 
Jack's  mental  weakness.  Besides  the  exhaustion  which  he 
had  suffered  from,  he  had  not,  until  his  friends  looked  after 
him,  eaten  or  drunk  anything  for  over  forty  hours.  He 
had  neglected  the  food  brought  him  by  the  police. 

As  the  constable  half  supported  him  to  the  box,  he 
was  still  a  pitiable  object,  in  spite  of  the  champagne  the  fel- 
lows had  made  him  swallow.  As  his  bodily  strength  had 
come  back  under  stimulant,  his  intellect  had  returned  also 
with  proportional  strength,  which  of  course  was  not  great. 
His  ideas  as  to  what  was  going  on  were  of  the  vaguest 
kind.  He  looked  surprised  to  see  Geoffrey  in  custody, 
but  smiled  across  the  room  to  him  and  nodded. 

After  he  was  sworn,  Rankin  asked  hiii* : 

"  You  went  away  last  Wednesday  on  a  schooner  called 
the  North  Star  ?  " 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


357 


"  Yes." 

"  Did  any  person  tell  you  to  go  in  this  way,  instead  of 
by  steamer  or  railway  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  was  Geoffrey's  suggestion  at  first.  I  had 
to  go  away  on  private  business.  I  think  we  arranged  the 
manner  of  my  going  together." 

"  Did  any  person  tell  you  to  take  your  valises  to  the 
yacht  club  early  on  Wednesday  morning  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  was  Hampstead's  idea  originally,  and  I 
thought  it  was  a  good  one." 

"  You  wished  to  go  away  secretly  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  discussed  that  point.  I  was  going  by  rail, 
but  Hampstead  thought  the  schooner  was  best." 

"  You  evidently  did  everything  he  told  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  did,"  said  Jack,  as  he  smiled  across  to 
Geoffrey.  **  Hampstead  has  the  best  head  for  manage- 
ment I  know  of." 

"  Quite  so.  No  doubt  about  that !  Now,  since  the 
accident  to  the  boats  in  the  lake  some  bills  were  found 
upon  you.     Are  those  your  bills  }  "  (producing  them). 

"  Yes,  they  look  like  my  bills.  The  seven  one-hundred 
dollars  I  got  myself,  and  the  two  for  one  thousand  each  I 
got — "  Jack  stopped  here  and  looked  troubled.  He 
looked  across  at  Geoffrey  and  remained  silent.  It  came 
to  him  for  the  first  time  that  Hampstead  was  being  charged 
with  something  that  had  gone  wrong  in  the  bank  about 
this  money. 

The  magistrate  said  sharply  "  I  wish  to  know  where 
you  got  that  money.  You  will  be  good  enough  to  answer 
without  delay." 

Jack  looked  worried.  "  My  money  was  all  in  small- 
ish bills,  and  either  Geoffrey  or  I  (I  forget  which)  sug- 
gested that  I  had  better  take  these  two  American  one- 
thousand-dollar  bills,  as  they  would  be  smaller  in  my 
pocket.      He   slipped  these  two    out  of  a  package    of 


35« 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


i'i'  ^^hl 


f  <! 


■^"W  * 


bills  which  I  imagine  were  all  of  the  same  denomina- 
tion." 

Rankin  evidently  was  wishing  to  spin  out  the  time,  for 
he  glanced  at  the  side  door  whenever  it  was  opened. 

He  went  on  asking  questions  and  shov/ing  that  Geoffrey 
had  been  at  the  bottom  of  everything,  and  in  the  mean 
time  three  men  appeared  in  the  room,  and  one  of  them 
handed  Rankin  a  parcel. 

''  During  your  trial  this  morning  I  think  I  heard  you 
say  that  the  bills  you  saw  on  Hampstead's  desk  were  all 
dark-green  colored  ? " 

**  I  think  they  were  all  the  same  color  as  these  two. 
He  ran  his  finger  over  them  as  he  drew  these  two  out." 

"  I  have  some  money  here,"  said  Rankin.  **  Does  this 
package  look  anything  like  the  one  you  then  saw?  " 

"  I  could  not  swear  to  it.     It  looks  like  it." 

Even  the  magistrate  was  excited  now.  The  news  had 
flown  through  the  business  part  of  the  city  that  Geoffrey 
Hampstead  had  been  arrested  and  was  on  trial  for  steal- 
ing the  fifty  thousand  dollars.  The  news  stirred  men  as  if 
the  post-office  had  been  blown  up  with  dynamite.  The 
court-room  was  jammed.  When  word  had  been  passed 
outside  that  things  looked  bad  for  Hampstead,  as  much  as 
five  dollars  was  paid  by  a  broker  for  standing  room  in  the 
court.  It  had  also  become  known  that  Maurice  Rankin 
had  caused  the  arrest  to  be  made  himself,  and  that  nobody 
but  he  knew  what  could  be  proved.  People  thought  at 
first  that  the  bank  authorities  were  forcing  the  prosecu- 
tion, and  wondered  that  they  had  not  employed  an  older 
man.  The  fact  that  this  young  sprig,  professionally  un- 
known, had  assumed  the  entire  responsibility  himself,  gave 
a  greater  interest  to  the  proceedings. 

The  magistrate  leaned  over  his  desk  and  asked 
quietly : 

"  What  money  is  that  you  have  there,  Mr.  Rankin  ? " 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


359 


inomina- 


Maurice's  naturally  incisive  voice  sounded  like  a  bell 
in  the  death-like  stillness  of  the  court-room. 

"  These,"  he  said,  "  are  what  I  will  prove  to  be  the 
forty-eight  thousand-dollar  bills  stolen  from  the  bank." 

The  pent-up  excitement  could  be  restrained  no  longer. 
A  sound,  half  cheer  and  half  yell,  filled  the  room. 

Rankin  had  not  been  idle  after  he  left  Mrs.  Priest  that 
day.  He  first  went  in  a  cab  to  Jack,  and  simply  asked 
him  if  Geoffrey  had  worn  the  large- patterned  waistcoat  on 
the  day  he  went  away.  Jack  remembered  hearing  Sappy 
talking  about  his  wearing  it.  Rankin  then  drove  to  the 
Montreal  Telegraph  clerk,  who  identified  the  wrapper. 
Then  he  had  the  warrant  issued  for  Hampstead's  arrest, 
and  also  subpoenas,  which  were  handed  to  different  police- 
men for  service,  with  instructions  to  bring  the  witnesses 
with  them  if  possible.  The  Priests,  mother  and  son,  he 
secured  by  having  a  constable  bring  them  in  a  cab.  He 
then  requested  the  magistrate  to  hear  the  case  at  once. 

He  supposed,  rightly  enough,  that  Hampstead,  on  be- 
coming aware  that  the  numbers  of  the  stolen  bills  were  all 
known  would  be  afraid  to  pass  any  of  them,  and  would 
still  have  the  money  somewhere  in  his  possession.  So  he 
had  three  detectives  sent  with  a  search  warrant  to  break  in 
Geoffrey's  door  and  search  for  it.  He  thought  it  was  by 
no  means  certain  that  they  would  find  the  money,  and  he 
was  anxious  on  this  point,  but  he  knew  that,  even  if  he 
failed  to  secure  a  conviction  against  Hampstead,  he  had 
at  least  sufficient  evidence  to  render  Jack's  conviction 
doubtful.  In  the  case  against  Hampstead,  Jack's  evidence 
would  be  heard  in  full,  and  Rankin  felt  satisfied  that  in 
some  way  it  would  explain  away  the  terribly  damaging 
case  that  had  been  made  out  against  him  in  the  morning. 

The  sudden  shout  in  the  court  had  been  so  full  of 
sympathy  for  Jack  and  admiration  for  Rankin's  cleverness 
that  for  the  first  time  in  his  magisterial  existence  "  His 


360 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


Worship  "  forgot  to  check  it,  and  the  call  to  order  by  the 
police  was  of  the  weakest  kind.  All  the  bank-clerks  of 
the  city  were  jammed  into  that  room,  and  for  a  moment 
Jack's  friends  were  wild. 

A  few  more  questions  were  put  to  Jack,  but  only  to 
improve  his  position  before  the  public  as  to  the  charge 
against  himself. 

"  Are  you  aware  that  you  have  been  made  a  victim  of 
in  a  matter  where  the  Victoria  Bank  was  robbed  of  fifty 
thousand  dollars?" 

"  No,"  said  Jack,  looking  dazed.     "  I  am  not." 

"Are  you  aware  that  you  were  tried  this  morning  for 
stealing  that  money  ? " 

"  I  seemed  at  times  to  know  that  something  was  wrong. 
Once  I  knew  I  was  charged  with  stealing  something  or 
other,  but  I  did  not  know  or  care.  I  must  have  been  un- 
conscious after  the  collision  in  the  lake.  The  first  thing 
I  knew  of,  they  said  we  were  at  Port  Dalhousie.  We  must 
have  sailed  there  with  nothing  drawing  but  the  forward 
canvas,  and  that  must  have  taken  a  good  while." 

Jack  was  now  allowed  to  stand  down,  but  he  was  not 
removed  from  the  court-room. 

To  clear  up  Jack's  record  thoroughly,  Rankin  called 
Detective  Dearborn  and,  before  the  magistrate  stopped 
the  examination  as  being  irrelevant,  he  succeeded  in  show- 
ing that  Jack  had  been  delirious  for  twelve  hours  after  his 
arrest.  The  fact  that  Dearborn  had  not  mentioned  these 
circumstances  placed  him  in  a  rather  bad  light  with  the 
audience,  while  it  showed  once  again  what  a  common  habit 
it  is  with  the  police  to  suppress  and  even  distort  facts  in 
order  to  secure  a  conviction. 

The  telegraph  clerk  identified  the  recovered  forty-eight 
bills,  and  the  receiving  teller  gave  the  same  evidence  as  in 
the  Cresswell  case,  and  then  the  detective  who  found  the 
money  in  Hampstead's  room  was  called. 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


3^1 


As  soon  as  he  heard  his  first  words,  Geoffrey  knew 
what  was  coming  and  rose  to  his  feet  and  addressed  the 
magistrate  : 

"  I  suppose,  Your  Worship,  that  it  is  not  too  late  to 
withdraw  my  plea  of  not  guilty  and  at  this  late  hour 
plead  guilty.  This  will  be  my  only  opportunity  to  cast  a 
full  light  on  this  case,  and,  if  I  may  be  permitted,  I  will 
do  so." 

The  magistrate  nodded.     Geoffrey  continued  : 

"  Of  course,  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  Cresswell  is  quite 
innocent.  For  private  reasons,  in  a  matter  that  was  en- 
tirely honorable  to  himself,  Cresswell  wished  to  leave  Can- 
ada. He  was  going  through  the  States  to  California,  and 
did  not  intend  to  return,  and  would  have  resisted  being 
brought  back  to  Canada.  There  was  no  law  existing  by 
which  he  could  be  extradited.  He  could  only  be  brought 
back  by  his  own  consent.  From  the  way  I  sent  him  on 
the  schooner,  his  arrest  before  arriving  in  the  United 
States  was  in  the  highest  degree  improbable.  If  he  had 
afterward  b?en  arrested  in  the  States  I  could  have  at  once 
arranged  to  be  sent  by  the  bank  to  persuade  him  to  return. 
I  had  it  all  planned  that  he  never  should  return.  He  would 
have  done  as  I  told  him.  Even  if  he  insisted  on  coming 
back  I  then  would  be  safe  in  the  States.  Of  course,  I  did 
not  know  that  identification  could  be  made  of  the  bills — 
which  could  not  have  been  foreseen — and  my  object  in 
giving  him  two  of  them  was  that  suspicion  would  rest  tem- 
porarily on  him,  which  might  be  necessary  to  give  me  time 
to  escape.  As  it  turned  out,  if  Cresswell  had  insisted  on 
returning  to  Canada  he  would  be  returning  to  certain  con- 
viction—part of  the  identified  money  being  found  on  him. 

"  So  far  I  speak  only  of  my  intentions  at  the  time  of 
the  theft.  But  I  hope  no  one  will  think  I  would  allow  my 
old  friend  Jack  Cresswell  to  go  to  jail  under  sentence  for 
my  misdeeds.     To-night  I  intended  to  cross  the  lake  in  a 


362 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


m 


r' 

I*'  f'l 

Hit; 


small  boat  and  then  telegraph  to  the  bank  where  to  find 
all  the  money  at  my  chambers.  This,  with  a  letter  of  ex- 
planation, would  have  acquitted  Jack.  I  had  to  save  him 
— also  myself,  from  imprisonment ;  but  there  was  another 
matter  worth  far  more  than  the  money  to  me  which  I  hoped 
to  be  able  to  eventually  make  right.  If  I  had  got  away 
to-night  the  bank  would  have  had  its  money  to-morrow. 

"  On  the  day  before  the  theft  I  had  lost  all  my  twelve 
years*  earnings  and  profits  in  speculation.  If  I  had  been 
able  to  hold  my  stocks  until  the  evening  of  the  theft  I 
would  have  made  over  seventy-five  thousand  dollars.  For 
weeks  during  the  excitement  preceding  my  loss  I  had 
been  drinking  a  great  deal,  and  when  the  chance  came  to 
recoup  myself  from  the  bank  I  seemed  to  take  the  money 
almost  as  a  matter  of  right." 

As  Geoffrey  continued  he  was  looking  up  out  of  the 
windo  V,  evidently  oblivious  of  the  crowd  about  him, 
thinking  the  thing  out,  as  if  confessing  to  himself. 

"  I  know  that  without  the  liquor  I  never  would  have 
stolen,  and  that  with  it  I  became — " 

Kis  face  grew  bitter  as  he  thought  of  his  thieving  Tar- 
tar uncle  and  his  mother  who  could  not  be  prevented 
from  stealing.  But  he  pulled  himself  together  and  con- 
tinued :  "  It  would  have  been  open  to  me  to  call  men 
from  this  gathering  to  give  evidence  as  to  my  previous 
character,  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  leaving  this  point 
in  your  hands  if  it  will  do  anything  to  shorten  my  sen- 
tence. On  this  grounc!  only  am  I  entitled  to  ask  for  your 
consideration,  and  you  will  be  doing  a  kindness  if  you  will 
pass  sentence  at  once." 

As  Hampstead  said  these  words  he  looked  abstractedly 
around  for  the  last  time  upon  the  scores  of  former  friends 
who  now  averted  their  faces.  There  was  no  bravado  in 
his  appearance.  He  held  himself  erect,  as  he  always  did, 
and  his  face  was  impenetrable.     His  eyes  claimed  ac- 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


Z^} 


quaintance  with  none  who  met  his  glance.  Some  smiled 
faintly,  impressed  as  they  were  with  his  bearing,  but  he 
seemed  to  look  into  them  and  past  them,  as  if  saying  to 
himself :  "  There's  Brown,  and  there's  Jones,  and  there's 
Robinson,  I  wonder  when  I  will  ever  see  them  again  ?  " 

There  were  men  in  that  throng  who  knew,  when  Hamp- 
stead  spoke  of  the  effects  of  the  liquor  on  him,  exactly 
what  was  meant,  who  knew  from  personal  experience  th  .t, 
if  there  is  any  devilish  tendency  in  a  man  or  any  hered- 
itary predisposition  to  any  kind  of  wrong-doing,  alcohol 
will  bring  it  out,  and  these  men  could  not  refrain  from 
some  sympathy  with  him  who  had  partly  explained  his 
fall,  and  somehow  there  were  none  who  thought  after 
Geoffrey's  statement  that  he  would  have  sacrificed  Jack 
to  imprisonment  under  sentence. 

The  magistrate  addressed  him  : 

"  Geoffrey  Hampstead,  I  do  not  think  there  has  been 
anything  against  your  character  since  you  came  to  Toron- 
to. That  an  intelligence  such  as  yours  should  have  been 
prostituted  to  the  uses  to  which  you  have  put  it  is  one  of 
the  most  melancholy  things  that  ever  came  to  my  knowl- 
edge. I  can  not  think  you  belong  to  the  criminal  classes, 
and  I  would  be  glad  to  be  out  of  this  matter  altogether, 
because  I  feel  how  unable  one  may  be  to  deal  for  the  best 
with  a  rase  like  yours.  It  may  be  that  if  you  were  liber- 
ated you  would  never  risk  youi  ruin  again.  I  do  not  think 
you  would  ;  b'U,  in  that  case,  this  court  might  as  well  be 
closed  and  the  police  disbanded.  I  am  compelled  to  make 
your  case  exemplary,  and  I  sentence  you  to  six  years  in 
the  Kingston  Penitentiary." 

A  dead  silence  followed,  and  then  his  former  friends 
and  acquaintances  began  to  go  away.  They  went  away 
quietly,  not  looking  at  each  other.  There  was  something 
in  the  proceedings  of  the  day  that  silenced  them.  They 
had  lost  faith  in  one  honest  man  and  had  found  it  again  ; 


3^4 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


rif^iV 


.1..  i,, !;.  -J 


.4a- 


and  another,  on  whom  some  nobility  was  stamped,  they 
had  seen  condemned  as  a  convict.  As  they  took  their 
last  look  at  the  man  whom  they  had  often  envied  and  ad- 
mired, they  wished  to  escape  observation.  So  many  of 
them  were  thinking  how,  at  such  a  time  in  their  lives,  if 
things  had  not  luckily  turned  out  as  they  did,  they,  too, 
might  have  fallen  under  some  kind  of  temptation,  and  they 
knew  the  sympathy  that  comes  from  secret  consciousness 
of  what  their  own  possibilities  in  guilt  might  have  been. 

Geoffrey  received  his  sentence  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow toward  the  blue  sky  and  the  swallows  that  flew  past. 
Every  word  that  the  magistrate  had  said  had  in  it  the  tone 
of  a  friend,  which  made  it  harder  to  bear.  While  he  heard 
it  all  vividly,  he  strained  to  keep  his  attention  on  the  fly- 
ing swallows  in  order  that  he  might  not  break  down.  Out- 
side of  that  window,  and  just  in  that  direction,  Margaret, 
the  wife  that  never  would  be,  was  waiting  for  him.  The 
man's  face  was  like  ashes.  Oh,  the  relief  to  have  dashed 
himself  upon  the  floor  when  he  thought  of  Margaret ! 

Yet  he  held  out.  He  felt  it  would  be  better  for  him 
to  be  dead ;  but  he  met  his  fate  bravely,  and  now  sought 
relief  in  another  way.  He  caught  Rankin's  eye,  and  mo- 
tioned to  him  to  come  near. 

With  a  face  that  was  afraid  to  relax  its  tension,  he 
said,  with  an  effort  at  something  like  his  ordinary  speech  : 

"  Rankin,  you  forsook  me  sadly  to-day,  did  you  not  ? 
But  I  can  still  count  on  you  to  do  me  a  good  turn — if  only 
in  return  for  to-day." 

"  Go  on,  Geoffrey.  Yes,  I  have  disliked  you  from  the 
first.  But  now  I  don't.  You  make  people  like  you,  no 
matter  what  you  do.  You  take  it  like  a  man.  What  do 
you  want  ? " 

Rankin  could  not  command  his  countenance  as  Geof- 
frey could.  Now  that  he  had  accomplished  the  work  of 
convicting  him,  it  seemed  terrible  that  one  who,  with  all 


'>■        i#.  : 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


365 


his  faults,  appeared  so  manly  a  man,  and  so  brave,  should 
be  on  his  way  to  six  years'  darkness. 

Geoffrey  pulled  him  closer  and  whispered  in  his  ear : 
"  Go  to  Margaret — at  once — before  she  can  read  anything ! 
Take  a  cab.  Tell  her  all.  Break  it  to  her.  You  can 
put  it  gently.  Go  to  her  now — let  her  know,  fairly,  before 
you  come  away,  that  all  my  chances  are  gone — that  she  is 
released — that  I  am  nothing — now — but  a  dead  man." 

His  head  went  down  as  the  words  were  fmished  with 
a  wild  effort,  and  his  great  frame  shook  convulsively  for 
a  moment.     The  thought  of  Margaret  killed  him. 

During  the  day,  before  his  arrest,  he  had  seen  that  he 
would  have  to  return  at  least  part  of  the  money  to  corrob- 
orate his  story  and  to  save  Jack.  And  he  could  not  ab- 
scond with  the  balance,  because  that  would  mean  the  loss 
of  Margaret.  By  returning  the  money  and  saving  himself 
from  imprisonment,  he  had  hoped  that  eventually  she 
would  forgive  him.     And  now — 

Maurice  could  not  stand  it.  He  said,  hurriedly :  "All 
right.  I'll  see  you  to-morrow."  And  then  he  dashed 
off,  out  a  side  door,  and  into  a  cab.  And  on  the  way  to 
Margaret  he  wept  like  a  child  behind  the  carriage  curtains 
for  the  fate  of  the  man  whom  he  had  convicted. 


CHAPTER   XXVni. 


Yea,  it  becomes  a  man 
To  cherish  memory,  where  he  had  delight, 
For  kindness  is  the  natural  birth  of  kindness. 
Whose  soul  records  not  the  great  debt  of  joy, 
Is  stamped  forever  an  ignoble  man. 

Sophocles  (Aj'ax). 

As  Rankin  broke  the  news  to  Margaret — by  degrees 
and  very  quietly — -she  showed  but  little  sign  of  feeling. 


zee 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


-31..' 


Her  face  whitened  and  she  moved  stiffly  to  the  open 
window,  where  she  could  sit  in  the  draught.  As  she  made 
Rankin  tell  her  the  whole  story  she  simply  grew  stony, 
while  she  sat  with  bloodless  hands  clinched  together,  as  if 
she  thus  clutched  at  her  soul  to  save  it  from  the  madness 
of  a  terrible  grief. 

Suddenly  she  interrupted  him. 

"  Dismiss  your  cab,"  she  said.  "  I  will  walk  back  with 
you  part  of  the  way." 

When  she  turned  toward  him,  the  strained  face  was  so 
white  and  the  eyes  so  wide  and  expressionless  that  he  be- 
came afraid. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  rather  be  alone,"  said  he,  doubt- 
ful about  letting  her  go  into  the  street. 

She  seemed  to  divine  what  was  in  his  mind,  for  she 
made  him  feel  more  at  ease  by  a  gentler  tone  : 

"Alone?  No,  no  !  Anything  but  that!  The  walk 
will  do  me  good." 

The  cab  was  dismissed  while  she  put  on  her  hat,  and 
as  they  walked  through  the  quiet  streets  toward  the  heart 
of  the  city,  he  went  on  with  all  the  particulars,  which  she 
seemed  determined  to  hear.  Several  times  they  met  peo- 
ple who  knew  her  and  knew  of  her  engagement  to  Hamp- 
stead,  and  they  were  surprised  to  see  her  walking  with — 
of  all  men — Maurice  Rankin.  But  she  saw  no  one,  gaz- 
ing before  her  with  the  look  which  means  madness  if  the 
mind  be  not  diverted.  Suddenly,  as  they  had  to  cross  one 
of  the  main  arteries  of  the  city,  a  sound  fell  upon  Mar- 
garet's ear  that  made  her  stop  and  grasp  Rankin  by  the 
arm.  Then  the  cry  came  again — from  a  boy  running 
toward  them  along  the  street : 

"  Special  edition  of  the  Evening  News  !  All  about 
Geoffrey  Hampstead,  the  bank  robber !  " 

For  a  moment  her  grasp  came  near  tearing  a  piece  out 
of  Rankin's  arm.     But  this  was  only  when  the  blow  struck 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


3<57 


her.  She  stopped  the  boy  and  bought  a  paper.  She  gave 
him  half  a  dollar  and  walked  on. 

**  This  will  do  to  give  them  at  home,"  she  said  simply. 
"I  could  not  tell  them  myself." 

But  the  blow  was  too  much  for  her.  To  hear  the  name 
of  the  man  she  worshiped  yelled  through  the  streets  as  a 
bank  robber's  was  more  than  she  felt  able  to  bear.  She 
must  get  home  now.  Another  experience  of  this  kind, 
and  something  would  happen. 

*'  Good-by  !  "  she  said,  as  she  stopped  abruptly  at  the 
corner  of  a  street.  Not  a  vestige  of  a  tear  had  been 
seen  in  her  eyes.  "  I  will  go  home  now.  You  have  been 
very  kind.     I  forgive  you  for — " 

She  turned  quickly,  and  Rankin  stood  and  watched 
her  as  she  passed  rapidly  away. 


No.  173  Tremaine  Buildings  had  become  slightly  better 
furnished  since  the  opening  of  this  story.  Between  the 
time  when  he  made  the  cruise  in  the  Ideal  and  the  events 
recorded  in  the  preceding  chapters,  Rankin  had  con- 
tributed somewhat  to  his  comforts  in  an  inexpensive  way. 
In  order  to  buy  his  coal,  which  he  did  now  with  much 
satisfaction,  he  had  still  to  practice  the  strictest  economy. 
But  he  took  some  pleasure  in  his  solitary  existence. 
From  time  to  time  he  bought  different  kinds  of  preserves 
sold  in  pressed-glass  goblets  and  jugs  of  various  sizes. 
After  the  jam  was  consumed  the  prize  in  glassware  would 
be  washed  by  Mrs.  Priest  and  added  to  his  collection, 
and  there  was  a  keen  sense  of  humor  in  him  when  he 
added  each  terrible  utensil  to  his  stock.  **  A  poor  thing 
— but  mine  own  ! "  he  would  quote,  as  he  bowed  to  an 
imaginary  audience  and  pointed  with  apologetic  pride  to 
a  hideous  pressed-glass  butter-bolt. 

In  buying  packages  of  dusty,  doctored,  and  detest- 
able, tea  he  acquired  therewith  a  collection  of  gift-spoons 


flir.;.H' , 


4^ 


>   ',1        ^14 


368 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


of  different  sizes,  and  also  knives,  forks,  and  plates,  which, 
if  not  tending  to  develop  a  taste  for  high  art,  were  useful. 
At  a  certain  "  seven-cent  store  "  he  procured,  for  the  pre- 
vailing price,  articles  in  tinware,  the  utility  of  which  was 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  cost. 

Thus,  when  he  sat  down  of  an  evening  and  surveyed  a 
packing-box  filled  with  several  sacks  of  coal,  all  paid  for; 
when  he  viewed  the  collection  of  glassware,  the  "  family 
plate,'*  and  the  very  desirable  cutlery;  when  he  gazed  with 
pride  upon  his  seven-cent  treasures  and  his  curtains  of 
chintz  at  ten  cents  a  mile;  when  he  considered  that. all 
these  were  his  very  own,  his  sense  of  having  possessions 
made  him  less  communistic  and  more  conservative.  Primi- 
tively, a  Conservative  was  a  being  who  owned  something, 
just  as  Darwin's  chimpanzee  in  the  "Zoo,"  who  discov- 
ered how  to  break  nuts  with  a  stone  and  hid  the  stone, 
was  a  Tory  ;  the  other  monkeys  who  stole  it  were  neces- 
sarily Reformers. 

About  ten  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  trial  Rankin 
was  sitting  among  his  possessions  sipping  some  "  gift- 
spoon  "  tea.  Around  him  were  three  evening  papers  and 
two  special  editions.  The  "  startling  developments  "  and 
"  unexpected  changes  "  which  had  "  transpired  "  at  the 
Victoria  Bank  had  made  the  special  editions  sell  off  like 
cheap  peaches,  and  Rankin  was  enjoying  the  weakness — 
pardonable  in  youth  and  not  unknown  to  maturity — of 
reading  each  paper's  account  of  himself  and  the  trial. 
They  spoke  of  his  "acuteness  "  and  "foresight,"  and  com- 
mented on  his  being  the  sole  means  of  recovering  the 
forty-eight  thousand  dollars.  One  paper  must  certainly 
have  jumped  at  a  conclusion  when  it  called  him  "  a  well- 
known  and  promising  young  lawyer — one  of  the  rising 
men  at  the  bar." 

"  The  tide  has  turned,"  he  said.  "  Twenty  cents  a 
day  is  not  going  to  cover  my  total  expenses  after  this.     I 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


369 


s,  which, 
•e  useful. 
■  the  pre- 
hich  was 

rveyed  a 
paid  for; 
:  "  family 
ized  with 
irtains  of 
I  that. all 
)ssessions 
2.  Primi- 
)mething, 

0  discov- 
he  stone, 
re  neccs- 

1  Rankin 
le  "gift- 
ipers  and 
nts  **  and 
"  at  the 

off  like 
lakness — 

rity — of 
;he  trial, 
ind  com- 
bing the 

lertainly 
'"  a  well- 

le  rising 

cents  a 
this.     I 


feel  it  in  my  bones  that  the  money  will  come  pouring  in 
now."  He  was  mechanically  filling  a  pipe  when  a  rap  at 
the  door  recalled  him  from  his  dream.  A  tall  Scotchman, 
whom  Rankin  recognized  as  the  messenger  of  the  Victoria 
Bank,  handed  him  a  letter  and  then  felt  around  for  the 
stairs  in  the  darkness,  and  descended  backward,  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  for  fear  of  accidents. 

A  pleasing  letter  from  the  manager  of  the  Victoria 
Bank  inclosed  one  of  the  recovered  thousand-dollar  bills. 

Rankin  sat  down.  **  I  shall  never,"  he  said,  with  an 
air  of  resolve,  "  steal  any  more  coal !  And  now  I'll  have 
a  cigar,  three  for  a  quarter,  and  blow  the  expense  !  " 

Two  weeks  afterward  there  came  to  him  a  copy  of  a 
resolution  passed  by  the  bank  directors,  together  with  a 
notification  that  they  had  arranged  with  the  bank  solici- 
tors, Messrs.  Godlie,  Lobbyer,  Dertewercke,  and  Toylor, 
to  have  him  taken  in  as  a  junior  partner. 

Immediately  after  Geoffrey  was  sentenced,  Jack  Cress- 
well  was,  of  course,  discharged.  A  dozen  hands  were 
being  held  out  to  congratulate  him,  when  Detective  Dear- 
born drew  him  through  a  side  door  into  an  empty  room, 
where  they  had  a  short  talk  about  keeping  the  name  of 
Nina  Lindon  from  the  public,  and  then  they  departed 
together  for  Tremaine  Buildings  in  a  cab,  while  the  two 
valises  in  front  looked,  like  their  owner,  none  the  better 
for  their  vicissitudes.  Dearborn  felt  that  little  could  be 
said  to  mend  the  trouble  he  had  caused  Jack,  but  he  did 
all  he  could,  and  there  was  certainly  nothing  hard-hearted 
in  the  care  with  which  the  redoubtable  detective  assisted 
his  former  victim  to  bed.  Mrs.  Priest  was  summoned, 
also  a  doctor.  Jack  was  found  to  be  worse  than  he 
thought,  and  Patsey  was  ordered  to  remain  within  call  in 
the  next  room,  where  he  consumed  cigars  at  twelve  dollars 
the  hundred  throughout  the  night. 
»4 


370 


GEOFFREY  HAMPSTEAD. 


,i;i:i:« 


The  next  day  Mrs.  Mackintosh  and  Margaret  came 
down  in  a  cab  to  Jack's  lonely  quarters,  and  insisted  upon 
his  being  moved  to  their  house  during  his  illness.  While 
unable  to  go  home  to  his  parents  at  Halifax  he  was  loath 
to  give  trouble  to  his  friends,  and  made  excuses,  until  he 
saw  that  Margaret  really  wished  him  to  come,  and  divined 
that  his  coming  might  be  a  relief  to  her. 

It  was  so.  In  the  weeks  that  followed,  whatever  these 
two  suffered  in  the  darkness  and  solitude  of  the  nights, 
during  the  day-time  they  were  brave.  The  heart  of  each 
knew  its  own  bitterness.  In  a  short  time  Jack  found  the 
comfort  of  speech  in  telling  Margaret  many  things.  Un- 
avoidably Geoffrey's  name  came  up,  for  he  was  entangled 
in  both  their  lives.  Little  by  little  Jack's  story  came  out, 
as  he  lay  back  weakly  on  his  couch,  until,  warmed  by 
Margaret's  sympathy,  he  told  her  all  about  Nina  and  him- 
self— so  far  as  he  knew  the  story — and  in  the  presence  of 
his  manifold  troubles,  and  at  the  thought  of  his  suffering 
when  he  witnessed,  as  a  captive,  Nina's  death,  Margaret 
felt  that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  one  who  had  known 
even  greater  grief  than  her  own.  This  was  good  for  her. 
After  a  while  she  was  able  to  speak  to  Jack  about  Geof- 
frey, and  this  brought  them  more  and  more  together. 

When  he  got  well,  his  breach  of  duty  in  going  away 
without  notice  was  overlooked,  and  he  was  taken  back  to 
his  old  post.  There  he  worked  on  as  the  years  rolled 
by.  Country  managerships  were  offered  to  him,  and  de- 
clined. He  had  nothing  to  make  money  for,  and  the 
only  thing  he  really  enjoyed  was  Margaret's  society,  in 
which  he  would  talk  about  Nina  and  Geoffrey  without 
restraint.  For  many  years  he  remained  ignorant  that  his 
marriage  with  Nina  was,  after  all,  for  New  York  State  a 
valid  one,  since  marriage  by  simple  contract,  without  re- 
ligious ceremony,  is  sufficient  in  that  State.  He  never 
dreamed  Geoffrey  had  been  indirectly  the  cause  of  his 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


371 


it  came 
;d  upon 
While 
as  loath 
until  he 
divined 

sr  these 
:  nights, 
of  each 
ind  the 
s.  Un- 
tangled 
me  out, 
med  by 
tid  him- 
ience  of 
uffering 
[argaret 
known 
for  her. 
t  Geof- 
^r. 

g  away 
back  to 
rolled 
nd  de- 
nd  the 
iety,  in 
vithout 
hat  his 
State  a 
out  re- 
never 
of  his 


life's  ruin,  and  always  spoke  of  him  as  a  man  almost 
without  blame.  However  unreasonable,  there  are,  among 
all  the  faulty  emotions,  few  more  beautiful  than  a  man's 
affection  for  a  man.  When  ic  exists,  it  is  the  least  exact- 
ing attachment  of  his  life. 

Margaret  listened  to  his  superlatives  about  Geoffrey. 
She  listened  ;  but  as  the  years  passed  on  she  grew  wiser. 
When  walking  in  the  open  fields,  or  perhaps  beside  the 
wide  Inke,  an  image  would  come  to  her  in  gladsome 
colors,  in  matchless  beauty — a  Greek  god  with  floating 
hair  and  full  of  resolve  and  victory,  and  in  her  dreams 
she  would  see  and  talk  with  him,  and  would  find  him 
grave  and  thoughtful  and  tender,  and  all  that  a  man  could 
be.  Then  would  come  the  rending  of  the  heart.  This  was 
a  thief  who  had  decoyed  his  friend,  and,  good  or  bad, 
was  lost  to  her. 

And  thus  time  passed  on.  For  two  or  three  years  she 
went  nowhere.  She  tried  going  into  society,  after  Geof- 
frey's sentence,  thinking  to  obtain  relief  in  change  of 
thought,  but  the  experiment  was  a  failure.  She  found  that 
she  had  not  the  elasticity  of  temperament  which  can  doff 
care  and  don  gayety  as  society  demands.  So  she  gave  up 
the  attempt  for  years,  and  then  went  again  only  at  her 
mother's  solicitation.  She  said  she  had  her  patients  at  the 
hospital,  her  studies  with  her  father,  her  many  books  to 
read,  her  long  walks  with  Jack  and  Maurice  Rankin,  and 
what  more  did  she  want  ? 

She  did  not  hear  of  Geoffrey.  The  six  years  of  his 
nnprisonment  had  dragged  themselves  into  the  past,  and 
she  supposed  he  was  free  again,  if  he  had  not  died  in  the 
penitentiary.  But  nothing  was  heard  of  him,  and  thus 
the  time  rolled  on,  while  Margaret's  mother  secretly  wept 
to  see  her  daughter's  early  bloom  departing,  while  no  hope 
of  any  happy  married  life  seemed  possible  to  her. 

Grave,  pleasant,  studious,  thoughtful,  as  the  years  rolled 


372 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


by,  she  went  on  with  her  hospital  work.  From  the  depths 
of  the  grief  into  which  she  was  plunged,  she  could  discern 
some  truths  that  might  have  remained  unknown  if  her  life 
had  continued  sunny — just  as  at  noonday  from  the  bottom 
of  a  deep  pit  or  well  the  stars  above  us  can  be  seen.  To 
her  the  bitterness  of  her  life  was  medicinal.  Speaking 
chemically,  it  was  like  the  acid  of  the  unripe  apple  acting 
upon  the  starch  in  it  to  make  a  sugar — thus  to  perfect  a 
sweet  maturity.  She  was  one  of  the  richly  endowed  wom- 
en in  whom  sensitiveness  and  strength  combine  peculiarly 
for  either  superlative  joy  or  sorrow,  and  hers  was  a  grief 
which,  for  her,  nothing  but  tending  the  bed  of  sickness 
seemed  to  mitigate.  Many  a  bruised  heart  was  healed, 
gladdened,  and  bewitched  by  the  angel  smile  on  the  sweet 
firm,  full  lips  which  could  quiver  with  compission.  There 
are  some  smiles,  given  for  others,  when  grief  has  made 
thought  for  self  unbearable,  which  nothing  but  a  descent 
into  hell  and  glorious  rising  again  could  produce. 


k' 


ii 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

This  is  peace  I 
To  conquer  love  of  self  and  lust  of  life, 
To  tear  deep -rooted  passion  from  the  breast, 
To  still  the  inward  strife  ; 
For  glory,  to  be  lord  of  self  ;  .  .  . 

.  .  .  For  countless  wealth, 
To  lay  up  lasting  treasure 
Of  perfect  service  rendered,  duties  dcae 
In  charity,  soft  speech,  and  stainless  days ; 
These  riches  shall  not  fade  away  in  life 
Nor  any  death  dispraise. 

(Buddha's  Sermon. — The  Light  of  Asia.)  ARNOLD. 

Geoffrey  Hampstead  had  come  out  of  the  peniten- 
tiary with  his  former  hopes  for  life  shattered.    Margaret  was 


GEOFFREY   IIAMPSTEAD. 


373 


e  depths 
I  discern 
f  her  life 
e  bottom 
jen.     To 
Speaking 
le  acting 
perfect  a 
ed  wom- 
leculiarly 
IS  a  grief 
sickness 
3  healed, 
the  sweet 
.     There 
las  made 
a  descent 


ARNOLD. 


Ipeniten- 
[aret  was 


lost  to  him.  He  came  out  without  a  tie  on  earth — a  living 
man  from  whom  all  previous  reasons  for  existence  seemed 
to  have  been  removed.  For  six  years  he  had  worked  in 
the  penitentiary  with  all  the  energy  that  was  in  him,  in 
order  to  keep  his  thoughts  from  driving  him  mad.  At  one 
time  all  had  been  before  him.  And  now —  Oh,  the  silent 
grinding  of  the  teeth  during  the  first  two  years  of  it! 
After  that  he  grew  quieter  and  became  able  to  regard  his 
life  calmly.  He  learned  how  to  suffer.  To  a  large  extent 
he  ceased  now  to  think  about  himself.  In  the  lowest 
depths  of  mental  misery  self  died.  Then,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  he  was  able  to  realize  the  extent  of  his 
wrongs  to  others.  What  now  broke  him  down  gradually 
was  not,  as  at  first,  the  bitterness  of  his  own  lost  hopes,  but 
the  thought  that  the  life  of  Margaret  was  wrecked — and 
by  him,  that  the  lives  of  others  had  been  wrecked — and  by 
him.  This  was  what  the  penitentiary  now  consisted  of. 
This  was  the  penitentiary  which  would  last  for  always. 

When  the  period  of  his  sentence  had  expired,  he  had 
gone  to  New  York  and  obtained  work  with  his  old  employ- 
ers on  Wall  Street.  But  his  mind  was  not  in  his  occupa- 
tion. With  his  energy,  it  was  impossible  to  live  with  no 
definite  end  in  view.  Why  plod  along  on  microscopic 
savings,  like  a  mere  machine  to  be  fed  and  to  work? 
When  mental  anguish,  for  him  the  worst  whip  of  retribu- 
tion, had  made  thought  for  self  so  unbearable  that  at  last 
it  died,  there  arose  in  him,  untarnished  by  selfishness,  the 
nobility  which  had  always  been  occultly  stamped  upon 
him,  and  which  in  prison  enabled  him  to  protect  himself, 
as  it  were,  against  madness,  and  to  refuse  to  be  unable  to 
suffer— a  nobility  able  to  realize  the  perfection  of  a  life 
lived  for  others,  which  none  can  realize  until  first  thought 
for  self  has  been  in  some  way  killed.  Rightly  or  wrongly, 
he  had  become  convinced  in  years  of  anguished  thought 
that  with  a  continually  aching  heart  may  coexist  an  in- 


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374 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


ternal  gladness  that  arises  from  the  gift  of  self  to  others 
and  makes  the  suffering  not  only  bearable  but  even  desira- 
ble— that  this  was  altogether  a  mental  phenomenon,  such 
as  memory,  but  one  on  which  religions  had  been  built, 
.md  that  it  was  capable  of  making  a  heaven  of  earth  and 
ieading  one,  with  the  ecstasy  of  self-gift,  even  to  cruci- 
fixion. 

He  determined  to  go  to  Paris  to  study  medicine.  For 
this,  money  was  required,  and  he  conceived  a  plan  for 
making  a  small  fortune  suddenly.  If  he  failed,  what 
then  ?  The  world  would  lose  a  helper.  His  employers,  on 
being  approached,  saw  that  if  proper  contracts  were  made 
they  were  sure  to  get  their  money  back,  and  supplied  him 
with  all  he  required  for  expenses. 


Mr.  Rankin,  of  the  firm  of  Godlie,  Dertewercke,  Toy- 
lor,  and  Rankin,  had,  for  more  than  six  years,  shared  with 
Jack  Cresswell  the  old  rooms  "  vice  Hampstead,  on  active 
service."  All  Geoffrey's  old  relics  had  been  left  untouched. 
He  had  sent  word  to  have  them  sold,  and  Rankin,  to  sat- 
isfy him,  had  let  him  thmk  they  were  sold  and  that  the 
money  they  brought  had  been  applied  as  directed.  The 
money  had  been  applied  as  directed,  but  it  had  come 
out  of  Rankin's  little  bank  account,  and  so,  until  the  time 
came  when  they  could  be  handed  over  to  Hampstead, 
the  old  trophies  remained  where  they  were  after  being  in- 
sured for  a  sum  which,  for  "  old  truck  and  rubbage  only 
fit  for  a  second- 'and  shop,"  seemed,  to  Mrs.  Priest,  sus- 
piciously large. 

Rankin  had  received  from  a  client  the  disposal  of  sev- 
eral passes  on  a  special  train  that  was  to  take  some  rail- 
way officials  and  their  families  to  Niagara  Falls  to  see  the 
great  swimmer,  John  Jackson,  together  with  his  dog,  en- 
deavor to  sv/im  the  Whirlpool  Rapids.  Half  the  world 
was  excited  over  this  event,  which  had  been  advertised 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


375 


0  others 

1  desira- 
3n, such 
:n  built, 
irth  and 
o  cruci- 

le.  For 
plan  for 
id,  what 
)yers,  on 
;re  made 
lied  him 


ke,  Toy- 
red  with 
3n  active 
[touched. 
,  to  sat- 
that  the 
d.    The 
d  come 
the  time 
ppstead, 
eing  in- 
ge  only 
est,  sus- 

ll  of  sev^- 
Ime  rail- 
see  the 
log,  en- 
le  world 
Ivertised 


everywhere.  While  dining  with  Jack  at  the  Mackintoshes 
on  the  Sunday  previous  to  the  event,  Rankin  proposed 
that  Margaret  should  accompany  Jack  and  him  to  see  the 
trial  made. 

Margaret  hesitated,  but  Rankin  said  :  "  Oh,  you  know, 
as  far  as  the  fellow  himself  is  concerned,  it  will  be  hard 
to  say  how  he  is  as  he  goes  past.  You'll  just  see  a  head 
in  the  water  for  a  moment,  and  then  it  will  have  vanished 
down  the  river." 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  will  be  much  to  see  if  the 
water  takes  him  past  at  the  rate  of  nineteen  miles  an 
hour,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Just  so.  There  won't  be  much  to  see.  But  we  can 
have  a  pleasant  day  at  the  falls  and  give  the  abused  hack- 
men  a  chance.  The  *  special '  will  have  a  number  of  ladies 
on  board,  and,  if  you  like  champagne,  now's  your  chance. 
What  is  a  special  train  without  champagne  ? " 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say,  mother  ?  "  asked  Margar-^t. 

Mrs.  Mackintosh,  to  give  her  daughter  an  acceptable 
change  and  to  get  her  out  ot  her  fixed  ways,  would  have 
sent  her  to  almost  anything  from  balloon  ascension  to  a 
church  lottery. 

*  Do  as  you  wish,  my  dear.  I  think  I  would  like  you 
to  go.  I  do  not  see  how  it  would  be  possible  for  a  spec- 
tator to  know  whether  the  man  was  suffering  or  not  in 
those  waters,  and,  as  for  his  sacrificing  his  life,  why  that  is 
his  own  lookout.  If  he  lives  I  suppose  he  will  get  well 
paid,  will  he  not,  Mr.  Rankin  ?  " 

"They  expect  he  will  make  about  twenty-five  or  thirty 
thousand  dollars.  Arrangements  have  been  made  not 
only  with  the  railways,  but  also  with  the  hotels  for  his 
commission  on  all  profits,  which  will  be  paid  to  him  if  he 
lives,  or,  if  not,  to  his  family.  I  don't  know  that  it  should 
be  necessarily  looked  upon  as  a  suicidal  speculation.  I 
have  examined  the  water  a  good  many  times,  and  am  by 


37<> 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


m  • 


■'l«!! 


no  means  certain  that  his  safe  passage  is  impossible,  if  he 
can  keep  on  the  surface  and  not  get  dragged  under  where 
the  water  seems  to  shoot  downward.  If  he  gets  through, 
or  even  if  he  tries  it  and  fails,  he  will  prove  himself  as 
brave  a  man  as  ever  lived." 

"  I  think  I  will  go,"  said  Margaret,  brightening  up  with 
her  old  love  for  daring.  "  It  is  not  like  going  to  a  bull- 
fight, and  the  excitement  will  be  intense." 

So  they  went  off  on  the  special,  and  when  they  arrived 
at  the  rapids,-  after  descending  the  precipice  in  the  hy- 
draulic lift,  they  went  along  the  path  to  the  platform 
where  the  photographs  are  taken.  This  place  was  filled 
with  seats,  numbered  and  reserved,  and  Rankin's  party 
were  seated  in  the  front  row.  No  less  than  a  hundred 
thousand  people  were  watching  the  forces  of  the  river  at 
this  time.  They  were  noticing  how  the  precipices  gradu-, 
ally  converged  as  they  approached  the  rapids,  and  how  ap- 
parent was  the  downward  slope  of  the  water  as  it  rushed 
through  the  narrowed  gorge.  They  were  noticing  how  the 
descending  current  struck  projections  of  fallen  rock  at  the 
sides,  causing  back-waves  to  wash  from  each  bank  diag- 
onally across  the  main  volume  of  the  river,  and  make  a 
continual  combat  of  waters  in  the  middle  of  the  stream. 
Here,  the  deep,  irresistible  flow  of  the  main  current  charges 
into  the  midst  of  the  battle  raging  between  the  lateral 
surges,  and  carries  them  off  bodily,  while  they  continue 
to  fight  and  tear  at  each  other  as  far  as  one  can  see  down 
the  river.  It  is  a  bewildering  spectacle  of  immeasurable 
forces,  giving  the  idea  of  thousands  of  white  horses  driven 
madly  into  a  narrowing  gorge,  where,  in  the  crush,  hun- 
dreds are  forced  upward  and  ride  along  on  the  backs  of 
the  others,  plunging  and  flinging  their  white  crests  high 
in  the  air  and  gnashing' at  each  other  as  they  go. 

The  worst  spot  of  all  is  directly  in  front  of  the  plat- 
form, where  Rankin's  p?.rty  was  sitting.     They  waited  un- 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


377 


ie,  if  he 
ir  where 
through, 
mself  as 

r  up  with 
to  a  buU- 

y  arrived 
I  the  hy- 
platform 
was  filled 
in's  party 
L  hundred 
he  river  at 
ces  gradu-, 
id  how  ap- 
3  it  rushed 
ng  how  the 
rock  at  the 
bank  diag- 
,d  make  a 
;he  stream, 
jnt  charges 
the  lateral 
ly  continue 
„  see  down 
measurable 
rses  driven 
[crush,  hun- 
e  backs  of 
crests  high 

[o. 

ji  the  plat- 
waited  un- 


til the  time  at  which  Jackson  was  advertised  to  begin 
his  swim,  and  then  they  grew  impatient.  Jack  was  stand- 
ing on  a  wooden  parapet  near  at  hand  waiting  until  the 
swimmer  should  appear  around  the  bend  far  up  the  river, 
for  they  could  not  see  him  take  to  the  water  from  the 
place  where  they  were. 

All  at  once,  before  the  rest  of  the  people  near  him 
could  see  anything,  Jack  called  out :  "  There  he  is !  "  as 
he  descried,  with  his  sailor's  eyes,  two  black  specks  on  the 
water  far  away,  up  above  the  bridges. 

Jackson  and  his  dog  had  jumped  out  of  a  boat  in  the 
middle  of  thci  river,  in  the  calm  part  half  a  mile  up,  and, 
as  they  swam  down  with  the  current  under  the  bridges, 
the  dense  mass  of  people  there  admired  the  easy  grace 
with  which  he  swam,  and  remarked  the  whiteness  of  his 
skin.  His  dog,  a  huge  creature,  half  Great  Dane  and 
half  Newfoundland,  swam  in  front  of  him,  directed  by  his 
voice.  Both  of  them  could  be  seen  to  raise  themselves 
once  or  twice,  so  that  they  could  get  a  better  view  of  the 
wild  water  in  front  of  them.  The  dog  recognized  the 
danger,  and  for  a  moment  turned  toward  the  shore  and 
barked  ;  but  his  master  raised  his  hand  and  directed  him 
onward.  Another  moment,  now,  and  the  fight  for  life  be- 
gan, for  reaching  the  shore  was  as  impossible  as  flying  to 
the  moon. 

The  first  back-wash  that  came  to  them  was  a  small 
one,  and  they  both  passed  through  it,  each  receiving  the 
water  in  the  face.  The  next  wash  followed  almost  imme- 
diately, and  they  tried  to  swim  over  it,  but  it  turned  both 
man  and  dog  over  on  their  sides  and  spread  them  out  at 
full  length  on  the  surface  of  the  main  current.  The 
people  on  the  suspension  bridge  could  see  that  both 
received  a  terrible  blow.  They  both  seemed  to  dive 
under  the  next  wave,  and  then  the  water  became  so 
turbulent  and  the  speed  of  their  passage  so  great  that 


378 


GEOFFREY   HAMPSTEAD. 


it  was  impossible  to  give  a  minute  description  of  what 
happened. 

Rankin's  party  and  the  multitude  of  spectators  now 
watched  what  they  could  see  in  breathless  silence.  At 
times,  as  the  swimmers  approached,  our  party  could  see 
them  hoisted  in  the  air  on  the  top  of  a  wave,  or  ridge  or 
upheaval  of  water.  Most  of  the  time  they  were  lost  to 
sight  in  the  gulleys  or  valleys,  or  else  they  were  beneath 
the  surface.  It  does  not  take  long  to  go  a  few  hundred 
yards  at  nineteen  miles  an  hour,  and  in  what  scarcely 
seemed  more  than  an  instant  the  man,  with  the  dog  still 
in  front  of  him,  had  come  near  them.  What  Jack  noticed 
was  that  as  the  man  here  shook  the  water  out  of  his  eyes 
and  raised  himself,  shoulders  out,  by  '*  treading  water," 
his  skin  was  almost  scarlet.  This  alone  told  a  tale  of  what 
he  had  gone  through  since  the  people  on  the  bridges  had 
remarked  the  whiteness  of  his  skin. 

He  was  now  almost  opposite  them,  and  his  face,  set 
desperately,  turned,  during  an  instant  in  a  quieter  spot, 
toward  the  platform.  Margaret  gave  a  piercing  shriek, 
and  fell  back  into  Rankin's  arms.  At  the  next  half-mo- 
ment a  huge  boiling  mountain,  foaming  up  against  the  cur- 
rent in  which  the  swimmer's  body  floated,  struck  him  a 
terrible  blow,  and  threw  the  dog  back  on  top  of  him.  Both 
were  engulfed.  After  a  while  the  dog's  head  appeared 
again,  but  Geoffrey  Hampstead  was  overwhelmed  in  the 
Bedlam  of  waters,  whose  foaming,  raging  madness  bat- 
tered out  his  life. 


THE   END. 


'Ta 


n  of  what 


tators  now 
lence.  At 
could  see 
•r  ridge  or 
;re  lost  to 
e  beneath 
V  hundred 
it  scarcely 
e  dog  still 
:k  noticed 
►f  his  eyes 
ig  water," 
lie  of  what 
idges  had 

3  face,  set 
ieter  spot, 
ig  shriek, 
;  half-mo- 
)t  the  cur- 
ick  him  a 
im.  Both 
appeared 
ed  in  the 
Iness  bat- 


III 


JAFFA. 


89 


to  Jaffa, 
when  his 
■oke  out, 
J  time  of 
I,  sweep- 
J  view  of 
ed  by  a 
and  soon 
built  by 

0  be  ex- 
saw  was 
ter  some 
11  boats, 
ns,  there 
ing  to  it. 
irbitrary 
et  about 
Qost  stu- 

circular 
)uth  and 
to  enter 

be  had 

IS,  look- 
hill,  till 
her.  A 
and  we 
dashing 
ir  small 
n  rocks 

heavy 
Tied  on 
s,  who 
e  of  the 
ing  un- 

is'nt  a 
d  with 
hrough 


the  filthy  bazaars,  dodging  laden  camels  and  donkeys,  till 
we  suddenly  came  upon  a  surprise  that  took  us  all  aback. 
In  a  lovely  orange  grove  where  the  fruit  literally  gilded 
the  trees  were  our  snowy  tents,  prepared  for  our  reception 
with  gay  flags  floating  from  their  tops ;  we  entered  the 
enclosure,  and  stood  spellbound  at  the  scene  of  enchant- 
ment ;  we  wandered  through  each  tent  and  viewed  the 
luxuries  within,  beholding  iron  bedsteads  and  bed  clothes 
made  up  neatly  in  each ;  washstands,  real  tin  jugs  and 
basins  ;  a  table  forsooth  !  the  ground  carpeted  !  and  the 
whole  tent  lined  with  scarlet  and  gold  chintz  with  gaudy 
Arabic  devices  on  a  blue  ground.  In  another  large  tent 
was  a  table  laden  with  fruits  and  silver,  and  a  cloth  such 
as  had  not  been  seen  for  many  a  day.  I  was  uncomfort- 
able among  such  splendour.  I  felt  as  if  I  ought  to  have 
had  my  Sunday  clothes  on  and  I  remonstrated  with  the  dra- 
goman for  such  Sybarite  preparations,  telling  him  that  in 
camping  in  the  backwoods  of  Canada  we  were  accustomed 
to  sleep  under  a  canoe. 

Ernest  and  I  had  a  tent  for  three  persons  which  gave 
us  more  room  than  others  had,  and  our  luggage  being 
deposited  in  our  newly  leased  domicile,  we  strolled  out  to 
the  house  of  Simon  the  tanner  and  mounted  the  roof 
The  house  itself  is  pretty  well  plastered  and  white- washed, 
and  might,  possibly,  be  a  hundred  years  old ;  and  on  this 
flat  roof  Peter  is  said  to  have  had  the  strange  vision  of 
clean  and  unclean  beasts. 

Here  Napoleon  in  1799,  when  a  breach  was  made  by 
the  cannon,  and  after  the  offers  of  peace  had  been  accepted, 
seized  nearly  4000  disarmed  people,  and  while  they"  were 
bound  massacred  them  to  a  man.  We  visited  Miss  Arnott's 
schools.  No  missionary  work  ever  attracted  my  sympathy 
as  did  hers,  at  Jaffa,  so  near  to  the  birthplace  of  Chris- 
tianity and  yet  so  far  removed  from  the  spirit  and  truth 
of  it.  On  entering  the  precincts,  the  clean  intelligent  ap- 
pearance of  the  childran  caught  the  eye  at  once,  some 
being  very  handsome  ;  the  enlightenment  of  Christianity 
marking  their  faces  with  a  beautiful  calm,  which  was  but 
a  reflection  from  Miss  Arnott  herself,  wherein  they  formed 


s 


t  { 

4.,i 


i  ! 


